


The Beautiful Sorrows of a Fallen Pulsar

by Thetrexthatcould



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Multi, Slowburn Clexa, Unrequited Love, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3849142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetrexthatcould/pseuds/Thetrexthatcould
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And whether the stars would admit to seeing you there, sprawled in the dirt, did not matter to you. “This is what I wanted to give you”, you breathe, “The sky.” She is quiet, but she grips your hand harder as she whispers, “Thank you for my souvenir, Clarke.”</p><p>Or</p><p>Clarke falls for the girl in the front row of her class. It takes Lexa a little longer. But it helps that Clarke is one romantic sap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And ever so slowly her eyes follow the path to yours, before locking securely into place.
> 
> You feel high.

The crackle of the rays breaking through the blinds makes a displeasing murmur leave your mouth, before you even have the opportunity to catch it with your hand. It is almost as if you can hear the mellow humming of their engine, making a slight noise each time they bounce off of the tiny dust particles suspended in the air, scouting their way to your eyelashes, where they finally lay to rest.

You are not, nor have you ever been a morning person.

Granted, you are awake. But you still keep your eyes tightly shut, prolonging the inevitable moment of having to face your typical and rather monotonous responsibilities.

At first, you feel relaxed.

With your eyes still closed, you push off the comforter with your feet and sprawl across the bed, stretching and yawning as you do so. Curiosity and a minor feeling of anxiety taking over, you reach for your phone and check the alarm.

_A whole 20 minutes_ , you think to yourself. _Plenty of time to lounge_. With that, you put your hands behind your head and let your gaze fall on the ceiling.

You end up inhaling harder than expected which viciously bites back in your chest and immediately feeds the throng of thoughts that scatter between the walls of your temples, before settling there and beginning their familiar drumming.

You feel guilt, you feel shame and you feel embarrassment. A chaotic blend of feelings, spurring you to sit up and try to thrust that hitching breath out.

The sound of your alarm scares you and all you can muster out is a _Fuck_ , before having to begin the morning ritual of getting ready for class.

 

-

 

The morning routine has not changed for years. Skipping breakfast for a shower, followed by brushing your teeth while sloping down on the edge of the bathtub. You significantly preferred staring into nothingness, than having to face yourself in the mirror image.

Once you are finished, you walk into your room and without paying attention grab a few items in order to get dressed. Jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and a hoodie- the almost stereotypical college outfit, except that your choices are severely mismatched. Had they not been, you fear it would have been a testament to you actually giving a fuck.

Before entering the hallway, you remember to grab your bag that is casually resting against your desk and you slip it onto your shoulder. With one hand firmly holding the strap, you open the front door with the other, turning around for a brief moment to say goodbye to your roommate, before remembering that Raven is more than likely sleeping through her hangover. And with that as your cue to leave, you walk through the door, mindful of closing it gently, before skipping down the stairs of the building.

As soon as you have crossed that threshold, the crispiness of spring cradles your face. You close your eyes temporarily, allowing the morning sun to trace its lines, burying itself in each weary crevice, soothing it the best it can.

You try to keep your stride relaxed, fervently attempting to leave the morning dew untouched by the dash of rushing feet. You begin to feel the rattle between your ribs that you have become accustomed to.

The weight of past decisions pushing down on your chest, as you become incapable of understanding how any of them could have carried such relevance, when in comparison to the vastness of everything, they seem insignificant.

And before realizing it, you have reached university grounds.

As you enter the main building, located in the heart of campus, you hear a familiar voice call out your name. Immediately turning around, you witness Octavia bridging the gap between the two of you.

“How are you feeling,” you ask with genuine interest before adding, “You seemed to have more fun than anyone last night”.

You can see her lips swell from the smirk that nips at them, prompting her to blurt out, “You wouldn’t know, would you? With you leaving early and all”. A laughter manages to push through the rim of her mouth, followed by her quipping, “Fucking lightweight”.

And you know that you are caught.

Last night was your first drink in months, it being a desperate attempt at drowning yourself on the cusp of that whiskey glass. It worked for a little while.

The warmth of the alcohol slithering down your throat, swishing around your stomach before ultimately settling there, making you sink even deeper into the couch that you were sitting on. By the fourth glass you had begun to feel ripples, tugging at your seams. Rising to your feet, you forced a smile before announcing that you are both too drunk and too tired, and would like to catch some sleep before class in the morning.

Octavia was the one that walked you home.

You walked in comfortable silence. At times, you could feel Octavia’s worried gaze fall on your profile. You were hoping that she would avoid asking about whatever it was that was burdening you. About whatever it was that brought upon an evident change in your posture. You were hoping that she would allow you to keep the gates to the deluge closed for a little longer.

Suddenly, you could feel her arm sneak its way around your waist, pushing you towards her, tilting her head on your shoulder. Words being superfluous, you relaxed in her hold, knowing that this was her way of letting you know that she will be there once you are ready.

And now, you were standing in the hallway, her eyes tracing for answers to yet unasked questions.

“You know that you’ll be making sure that I get more practice before the end of this semester”, you squeeze out through a grin, stopping her in her tracks.

Octavia offers a nod before you part your ways, but only after agreeing to see each other later that evening.

 

-

 

Once you find yourself outside of literature class, you begin to feel annoyed at the amount of bodies that are stubbornly trying to push their way through the narrow doorway leading into the classroom. You do your best at avoiding being swept up by the mob, trying to enter the lecture hall as gracefully as possible.

You give the room a quick glance, searching for an open seat, before allowing your feet to carry you to the fourth row. Somewhere in the middle of it, you find an empty desk and let your body collapse on the chair. Other students huddle around you and take up the rest of the empty seats, as their loud cackle begins to lower to a barely audible whisper.

A stout man, wearing a suit and tie, has entered the classroom. With one hand occupied by tugging at his beard, he uses the other to scribble down his name on the whiteboard.

“I’m professor Chouette. Although, I’d strongly prefer if you would just call me Alfred”, he says with an unvarnished smile.

You have already stopped paying any attention to the little man on the podium and have instead engrossed yourself with fidgeting and stirring in your seat, much to the appreciation of the students surrounding you.

_What are these chairs made of? Concrete?_ , as you once more try to find a position that will make you feel comfortable. However, limbs are beginning to tire, fatigue slowly growing roots around them. You lean on your elbow, pushing blonde strands of hair behind your ear, letting your hand rest on the side of your neck.

Mr. Chouette is walking around the podium, his hands animated as much as his face seems passionate. You catch him utter, “You are the universe, expressing itself as a human for a little while”. The words resonate loudly, finding their way to you. They wash over you, pleasant and reassuring and you cannot help it when you grab mouthfuls of them.

With newly found resolution, you gaze over the rows in front, your eyes searching their way to that of the professor. But to your surprise, that is not where they land.

Instead, they land on the ridge of a brown curl.

Your eyes rest on the cascading locks, bothering her every time she bends to scribble down notes in her notebook. Her being equally stubborn, if not more, waving them off and sharply placing them behind her ear.

You feel your breath snag, the jagged feel of it immediately making you uncomfortable. You feel as though you are giving her a disproportionate amount of momentum to mean something and therefore you quickly avert your eyes to the front of the classroom.

You concentrate on the professor’s voice, whom by now is discussing “in medias res”, debating whether or not that is the best way for an author to capture their audience. He scans the room and inquisitively states, “I would love to hear your opinion”, as he offhandedly throws his index finger in your direction.

You are motionless.

_There’s no way he’s talking to me_ , you think as you use your peripheral vision in an attempt to decipher whether or not you are the intended target, or if someone else, _ANYONE_ , will take it upon themselves to give an appropriate response. You establish that you have no such luck, considering the fact that the entire room is eagerly watching you, avoiding the very same responsibility that has now been given upon you.

Intense heat is crawling into your mouth, leaving it completely dry. You are sure that, if you were to spit, you would spit cotton. You clear your throat awkwardly before managing to stutter out, “Yes… it is?”, with the pitch of your voice going slightly higher than intended.

The silence that follows feels tangible and all enveloping. The professor’s gaze still unwavering, surely awaiting an explanation to your reasoning.

_There is no fucking escape_.

And with that as your yielding thought, someone interjects. The boy sitting next to you is spitting words towards the podium, each one more incisive than the other. Once he is done, he faces you, but speaks to the room, “I’m sure that’s exactly what my friend here meant to say.”

Whether satisfied with the provided answer or disappointed in you for lack of one, Mr. Chouette resumes the lesson.

You roll your eyes with relief as your lungs thrust out a compressed breath, leaving them tender. You offer a silent _thank you_ to the boy, before turning slowly towards the front of the class, having learned your lesson. The lie goes down smoother than you thought, giving you courage to explore the same path you had hunted on earlier.

Discretely, yet not discretely at all, you follow your gaze and give it consent to rest on the familiar curls from before. This time however, you are met by a pair of eyes, tenderly observing you. She hides her smile in the corners of her mouth, but the curve of her lips gives her away. For you, the world is suddenly shifting. A sense of wonder wreaking havoc within you. _What the fuck is wrong with me_ , you snap at yourself.

“My name is Finn”, a voice says.

You reluctantly turn your head in search of the source. The boy next to you is holding his hand suspended in the air and you wonder how long it has been resting there. You grab it gently, yet firmly and retort “Clarke. My name is Clarke”.

He gives you a smile and continues, “Well Clarke, if you ever need saving again, I’d be more than happy to help. But it will cost you! As I see it, you already owe me a coffee”.

A chuckle wheezes out through your teeth, curving your neck into a nod. “That’s fine”, you say, “As college students I feel as though caffeine is a building stone in maintaining our survival”. A sense of agreement lingers between the two of you, and with that being more than enough, both of you turn your attention to Mr. Chouette.

But truth be told, if your gaze happens to tumble once more on a pair of brown tresses, you put no effort in stopping yourself.

 

-

 

Finally, the bell rings.

Finn nudges you softly and gestures with his head towards the exit. Suddenly, he wrinkles his forehead and utters in jest, “Wow. You seem like you need that coffee right now”. All you can offer him is a distracted dip of the head, as you fervently tower over the rapidly vacant desks.

You grab your books as Finn leads the way to the end of your row, both of you waiting for the ideal moment to join the stampede currently headed for the narrow doorway.

“Wait for me outside”, the words bouncing off of your lips, as the boy joins the throng of zealous students, leaving no room for him to deny your request nor question the motivation behind it.

You feel nervous and your body language demonstrates it well. Your grip tightening around the books, pushing them harder to your heaving chest, as you continuously shift your weight from one foot to the other. _What the hell could I say to her anyway?_ And just like that, any courage that you might have had leaves your system in waves, propelling you towards the exit.

As you emerge on the other side of the doorway, Finn grabs your arm. “Took you long enough”, he says mischievously, “Did you find what you were looking for?”.

You let out a disappointing sigh, hoping that it in itself is enough of an answer, before stating “Let’s go. I desperately need that coffee, but double the liquor.”

_We are leaving. We are walking away._ You turn one last time, feeling angry. In part, angry for your lack of bravery, for your wavering resolve, but mostly for the steady growth of anticipation and hope that has now buried its talons somewhere under your clavicles and begun to nestle its way to your ribcage. Angry that it will end in the expected disappointment. Yet, once more, your world begins to shift.

Walking into the hallway, expressionless and unreadable, hair neatly tucked away, is _**her**_. And ever so slowly her eyes follow the path to yours, before locking securely into place.

You feel high.

All the weight from your bones has dissipated and been replaced with a drumming that is now rattling against the talons between your ribs. You know that you are both caught in a ephemeral moment. So, before it has passed, you allow it to hook its harness into the ends of your mouth, tugging gently at the strings, arching it upwards. Her face is unchanging, but she does not look away until you do. You are almost in disbelief with yourself.

_What the fuck are you doing, Clarke?_

Yet, you cannot shake off the feeling that it is too late to go back. Inadvertently, she has swung the pendulum with brute force and all you can do is hold on.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite there being a sense of monotony to your mornings, you profoundly enjoy its repetitiveness and predictability. You know that you have chosen a poor method of survival, yet you find consolation in it. As everything falls apart, it is comforting to have something consistent to lean on. A grateful person does not concern themselves with muddy waters, but are appreciative for the allowance of sinking their anchor and resting it in the dirt below.

And so, your morning began like the previous ones: _The crackle of the rays breaking through the blinds makes a murmur leave your mouth, before you even have the opportunity to catch it with your hand. You have never been a morning person._

Yet, something has changed.

Your morning is slightly different from the one before. The air around you feels lighter, almost.

The ghost of a brown curl flickers in the back of your head, the spark being enough to set you aflame. Instinctively, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up, attempt to swallow hard enough as to drown the feeling. The weight of it parts your lips sufficiently for a defeated sigh to escape. No matter how big your effort is in feeding your denial, it has reached a culmination. In order not to suffocate on it, you allow the whisper of a thought. The secret that, even though she is not yours to get to know or pour affection into, her existence makes you happy.

You stand up, leaving the notion to rest in your covers, as you begin your morning routine.

 

-

 

As you are about to exit through the front door, you hear a sudden, “Hey, asshole!”

You turn around only to witness Raven walking towards you, annoyance and confusion following her closely.

"Were you seriously going to leave without saying anything to me?”.

Last night Octavia had come over gifting alcohol, suggesting that slurring words and talks of the girl with the brown mane would make you feel better. It did not. And you certainly wanted to escape having the same conversation now. The irony lying in the fact that you were earlier embracing your repetitiveness, as you were now actively trying to avoid it.

“I’m sorry Ray”, you say sincerely, “I’ll see you later” and track your words with an embrace.

Your walk to campus gave you enough time to repose into a stillness, weeding out your worries. You enjoyed it because, by the time you had reached your destination, the only indication of any amount of concern would be the dirt under your fingernails.

You push through the wooden doors of the building, as you recognize the hand grabbing your arm, bracing yourself to greet Finn.

It is not that you were particularly unhappy at seeing him, but rather the fact that you could not shake the feeling that he wanted more than you were able to give him. Besides, whatever you had was brittle, if not already broken.

“I’m expecting to see you tonight”, his words filling the void between you, “I’ll even make sure we are stocked up on coffee”.

In one fluid motion, he brushes the hair from his face to better meet yours. Your gaze falls to the ground with a quickness, almost as if the floorboards beneath you had come to life.

There you were again, attempting to censor your existence. _One night won’t change anything_ , you try telling yourself convincingly. _I give you permission._ And with that notion in mind, a breathy echo of a word was released, “Yes”.

You arrive in front of Mr. Chouette’s lecture hall. A wall of bodies patiently waiting to enter. Recollecting the previous times, you know that once those doors open, the bodies push and shove with extended elbows and open palms, squeezing through the threshold, leaving it bruised.

Unexpectedly, you can feel the energy drain from your body, as your steps become heavier and slower. You do not know what catalyzed the influx of thoughts. Thoughts about Finn, thoughts about the girl with the brown mane and thoughts about your mother. The latter one being louder than the rest. Your mother has a _meaning_. And thinking about the fact that her pain is more of a side effect to life being a collection of random events, rather than the product of something bigger, hurts.

_I can always run. Now._

The thought having its own sense of willpower, foraging through your temples, climbing below your collarbones, finding its way to your muscles, leaving them tense and sore. You turn to Finn to speak, but he is already observing you with a mixture of confusion and care.

“You go in”, you say as to shatter the silence and swallow its shards. You can tell that he wants to speak, but decides against it. And as soon as he disappears from your sight, you make haste towards the exit.

 

-

 

You only stop once you are unsure of which way to go, glancing in both directions, not feeling any more convinced than before. You stand on the concrete, hesitant, when you hear words being spoken in your direction, “I saw you leave. I hope you do not mind that I followed you, but you seemed very upset.”

You turn your head towards the voice, but instantly feel as if you have whiplash, once your eyes meet hers. _The her_. Her look is not one out of pity, but rather of the endeavor to comfort and understand. And it makes you feel that you just might burst at your seams if she were to reach out and touch you.

She gives you time to process, before she utters again, “I can take you somewhere quiet.”

There is sadness coursing through your body, there is worry gushing in, but there is also electricity. A surge that pushes your mouth open and lets the word escape, “Please”.

 

-

 

You end up walking next to each other.

The silence is comfortable.

However, the surrealistic feel of the moment makes you glance at the girl in repeated and frequent intervals, as if you are expecting someone to grab you by the shoulders and shake you.

_Say something to her._

You find yourself searching for letters to click against your palate, but end up withholding each one of them. You do not have more time to reflect on it, as you end up hitting a bend, leading into a park. It being by no means secluded nor empty, yet at the same time precisely what you needed. And when she says, “This way”, you wonder if she is the sole reason that this place feels absolute to you.

You follow her as she leads you to a massive, towering oak. You sit down, extending your legs and resting your back against its trunk. And the tree, as if knowing, lowers its threads, untying their ends and letting a protective atmosphere settle between each oxygen molecule. The air fills quickly, not leaving room for much more.

You push your hands into the dirt under you, grabbing handfuls, as if the strands of grass are the only ones keeping you from leaping into the cosmos. You listen to the ruffle of the leaves and the creaking of branches as they sway under the weight of the breeze. You almost convince yourself that you are able to hear the pleasant smell of the dandelions, that are finding their way to you.

You release a breath that escapes in relief, having been biting down on your lungs fairly hard. You tilt your head to your side, letting it rest on your shoulder. Squinting through one eye while the other remains closed and shielded from the sun, you take in the figure sitting next to you.

Eyes closed and her head resting against the trunk of the tree. Her legs are sprawled in front of her with her hands resting in her lap, weighing down the dress from the rumble of the gust that adamantly tries to nip at it. Her hair is wild, turning its attention into whichever direction the wind takes it.

You feel so much. You feel everything. And despite it being frightening, you think, _You are so beautiful_.

A steady, “Thank you”, follows your thoughts.

Her head turns towards you and through untamed tresses, her eyes open. She holds your gaze long enough to acknowledge your words before she slowly closes them again and adds, “Anytime”.

You sigh into the warm spring day, as your mouth fills with all the things you want to say. Deprived of being spoken, they take flight.

“This means something to me”. You have to make a slight pause, finding your bearings and weighing your words before continuing, “Your effort, that is. It’s not going by unnoticed. It means something.” You close your eyes and stutter out, “So, for that, thank you.”

 _That’s not good enough Clarke. Look at her_.

Peeking through warm eyelashes you find her tenderly observing you and the flush from your cheeks finds its way to your lips that manage to push out, “Thank you”.

Her eyes, green and soft, follow the bend of her head as it dips down into a nod, “You are welcome”. She makes a pause and adds, “Anytime”.

The air around you is still.

You clear your throat with a small cough, leaving enough room for the words to pass, “I have this odd coping strategy”. You can feel her eyes resting on your profile, giving you courage to continue, “Whenever I feel as if I’m about to cry, I’ll think of a random object, hold its image and repeat its name in my head”.

_That doesn’t sound weird at all, Clarke._

Feeling slightly uncomfortable by your own confession, you clench your jaw and turn your head towards her. “For example, if I’m about to cry, I’ll say to myself _apple_.” You stir in place, trying to suppress the apparent embarrassment that lingers on your face, as you nervously tread on, “It’s not exclusive to think of an apple. It can be anything. The point is, as long as I think of it and say it enough times, the need to cry goes away. I feel better. It’s a distraction.”

The girl inhales sharply, her eyes gentle. There is no judgement, but you can tell that there is a question that finds its way to the wrinkles on her forehead. You answer it before she has time to ask, “My mom is sick.”

The words are hollow and taunting. They ring with such a force that you instantly feel nauseated. You can feel the tears brimming, but it is not your place to feel sadness.

_My suffering is the smallest of them all. Stop it, Clarke._

“I know it’s not the healthiest of ways to deal with problems, but this is what I need for now”, your voice hoarse and overflowing with all the things you do not allow yourself to feel.

A hand slides on top of yours. She lets it rest there, weighing yours down. It is warm and her fingertips on the roof of your hand feel like home. You do not move, because the feeling of her washes over you a thousand times, taking away all the aches of tomorrow. Your seams do not burst, but you feel as if something in your chest will.

You do not know how much time has passed, but by now the sun was not as warm, even though it still hung from the sky. When you finally decide to rise to your feet, she follows your motion, retracting her hand to her side. You fight the urge to grab it and hold it, with your chest stinging a little from the longing.

You begin the walk back, the air around you thick, as if hundreds of conversations are taking place. Although, you do not rush your pace, it does not take long before you reach university grounds, both of you standing awkwardly in front of the gates.

And it is there, standing rooted into the asphalt, that you remember and utter, “I never introduced myself. I’m Clarke”.

She smiles and you feel as if you have dived off a precipice and fallen into a warm interstellar cloud of dust.

“To think that this entire time I have been referring to you as Camus”, she says and proceeds to clarify herself, “He is an author who wrote a novel called The Stranger. And you being one, well, it led me to temporarily refer to you as him. But from now on I will use Clarke. Whenever I think of you.”

You both go quiet as the last part of her words settles between you.

She catches herself and adds, “I am Alexandria. But feel free to call me Lexa.”

 _Lexa_ , the name bouncing off of the walls of your mouth, before accidentally rolling off your tongue and leaking into the space between you. You take a step back, slightly embarrassed that it was said aloud and slightly astounded by the amount of care that had also come croaking out.

Yet, the way she is looking at you, fills you with valor as you bridge the gap between you and pull her into an embrace.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

Her arms clasp around your back, “Anytime, Clarke.”

 

-

 

“Holy hell. I mean, shit a brick and fuck me in the ears with it, because I have already told you that you look wonderful. Now, can we please go?”

Despite Raven’s playful approach, you are aware of the fact that you have been difficult to deal with ever since you agreed to come to Finn’s gathering. To a certain degree, you were going because you had made a promise to the boy, but even more importantly, you had made a promise to yourself. Your exhausting attitude would be waiting for you to pick it up by daybreak.

You looked down on your outfit, feeling unsure. You had put some effort in your appearance, but considering your prior and utter lack of interest, the effort was not great in comparison. Tugging at the sleeves of your jumper a slight sound of defeat coated your words, “Well, it’s the best I can do for now”.

Without hesitation, warm hands soothingly framed your face followed by swift words, “Clarke”, she paused, “You look beautiful. And I’m also relishing in the fact that you are one small step away from having a social life. Don’t blow it before it has even started.”

By the time that you arrived, the sun had begun to set. The horizon enveloping it with its endless arms. Your feet were sinking in the sand, making you arch your back in a forward motion as your arms flailed awkwardly, attempting to thrust yourself faster towards the bonfire. You felt slightly self-conscious advancing on the huddled cluster of people, too engrossed in their conversation to notice you. You smelled the aquatic air that had perched itself on the ends of your hair, your mouth and your skin. It made you feel more present in the moment, grounded, as though the waters were ravenously stealing the salt from you, only to carry it back to the waves.

In between the crackle of the flames, you observe Finn stand up and greet you with a warm “Welcome, welcome ladies!”

Your arm goes into a graceless wave, before Finn grabs it sturdily. “Clarke and Raven, this is everybody”, he continues.

He leads you around the fire with the intention of properly introducing you, but at the same time manages to disclose that the he only knows Jasper and Monty out of the group. They were his childhood friends and they were also the culprits to the many unknown faces surrounding the bonfire.

Shortly after the brief introduction, the talks resumed. You feel at ease and welcome, yet due to the fact that you wanted to make a good impression, you avoid using anyone’s name, feeling completely unsure whether it is the correct one or not.

You look around, picking an empty spot and with your hand clutching the beer bottle, you sit down. As you are about to put your lips to the bottleneck, you hear a soft voice address you, “Cheers”. In your peripheral vision you can see a drink being suspended in the air. “Cheers”, you respond with a smile, as you follow the path up to a vaguely familiar face. As if she has a direct understanding of your thoughts, she stretches out her hand and reintroduces herself, “I’m Costia, remember? And you are Clarke, right?” You wonder why such an interesting name was not able to implant itself in your mind. “I am”, you utter, “It’s nice to meet you. Again”.

Costia is beautiful, as well as vibrant, which makes you think that both of those traits are the reasons as to why you enjoy her company. You talk about moving to California, difficulty adapting, food and art. Costia also talks about her girlfriend.

“She’s in Chouette’s class, as well! You’ll, at least, have that in common once she decides to show up”, she says with a hint of impatience.

“Funny how it works”, you declare with both Costia and Raven waiting for you to continue, “I just think it’s interesting. You know, the probability of us having already met and, perhaps, even spoken to each other. But regardless, we have remained strangers. Until, a series of random events led me to tonight. And here we are. It’s just interesting how it works.”

Costia seems to be taking in what you are saying, but you can always depend on Raven to express herself without filter, “Is your beer laced?"

Suddenly, Costia’s movement is swift.

She perches herself on the edge of her seat, before pushing off with her palms. She is elated when she speaks, “Finally”. Her movement startles you, the tremor traveling to your hand, causing you to almost spill your drink. As you nonchalantly wipe at the few droplets that did manage to escape and cling to your jeans, you attempt to get a glimpse of the figure Costia is addressing. Your eyes widen in shock, sending a jolt of distress that instantaneously inhabits the bones of your ribs, hammering against your sternum.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck._

Raven, at times knowing you better than you know yourself, squeezes your leg gently and worriedly searches for your eyes. Without turning your head away, you whisper, “That’s her, Ray. That’s her.” At the sound of surrender in your voice, Raven clasped her fingers around your arm and benevolently uttered, “Let’s leave Clarke. We don’t need to stay.” You gave her a quick shake of the head, blonde strands of hair detaching from their spot behind your ear. Ultimately, there was nothing to feel deceived about.

“It’s neither of their fault, Ray”, you reply. Therefore, you stay.

Costia, through threaded fingers, tugs at the girl. You burrow your face into your palms and sigh your thoughts into them, _I’m fine. You’re fine, Clarke._

At the sound of shifting sand, you peek through the gaps of your fingers only to see a pair of feet settle in front of you as Costia gladly announces, “And this here is my new friend Clarke.”

You drop your hands to your sides, pushing yourself up. Your bones feel weak and you wonder how you have not collapsed under the heaviness of your hoarded emotions, once again clasping down on your lungs. You end up clenching your palms into fists, a well needed push to slowly meet her gaze. And once you do, holy fuck.

_She is more wonderful than I remember._

“Clarke and I have met”, she replies with the suggestion of a smile. Keeping in mind that you had been openly vulnerable with her earlier during the day, your interaction seemed more intimate.

“Well…”, Raven speaks, breaking the stillness and widening the gap between you and Lexa by grabbing her hand, “I’m Raven”. She then turns to you and speaks in a confirming tone, “Alcohol. I think alcohol is a wonderful idea. I’ll go and get each of us a standardized bucket of it.”

And right before she leaves, she cups your shoulders and adds, “I will be right back, Clarke.” The, _you will be fine,_ part goes unsaid.

As you are about to sit down, Costia pushes out, “And how do you enjoy school?”

“I enjoy it”, you say while making a slight pause, “Apart from the few humiliating moments that have taken place during class. In fact, that’s how Finn and I met. During an excruciating moment in Chouette’s class.”

By now Raven has returned and slithered next to you with a smirk on her face, as if it was the only barrier preventing her from embarrassing you. “Yeah, particularly excruciating because Clarke here”, Raven nudges you lightheartedly, “was disappointed that she failed to make a good impression on… someone.”

And with that you sincerely wonder what would stop you from leaping at Raven’s neck. You take a prolonged sip of your drink, as you shake your head, a gesture that was an attempt at dismissing your friend’s words. You think that the longer you stay quiet, the quicker the moment will pass.

_Calm down._

Costia puts her hand on your shoulder and through the ghost of a smile says, “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to”.

You glance at her, feeling relieved and reassured, adding, “I can tell you the gruesome story of how I met Finn. And inadvertently Alexandria.”

With that, you begin to narrate, feeling as if the moment you were speaking of had taken place during a different lifetime. As if you had died a thousand deaths and lived a thousand lives between then and now.

 

-

 

Regardless of the situation you had found yourself in, you are enjoying your evening.

The incessant laughter and unadulterated conversations were not fueled by the alcohol, although you suspect, the alcohol helped. Finn, who had joined your conversation about three beers earlier, speaks to everyone, but addresses you, “So, where did you end up going earlier today? You never came back to class.”

You whip your head towards the boy, as if he had managed to rip all your clothes off in one sentence, leaving you bare.

“I’m sorry”, you manage to squeak out, knowing that you are lying. The truth is, you do not feel apologetic at all. “I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world”, you reply as the boy’s smile fades and is replaced with confusion, settling in the furrow of his brows. “It’s from a novel”, you state.

Lexa is observing you with a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

“ _The Stranger_ ”, you continue, “I just needed some peace of mind and I ended up wandering away. I’m sorry I made you wait.”

There is a brief pause, before words are uttered, “It takes the time it takes”. Lexa’s gaze does not waver from yours as her voice goes quiet.

 

-

 

As the evening is coming to an end, you rise to your feet and proclaim, “Ladies, I need to go home and sleep this beer off.”

Raven nods in agreement, protectively looping her arm under yours. With your refusal of letting it go, the ensuing embrace that is shared between Finn and you is both awkward and reserved. However, when Costia throws her arms around your neck, you reciprocate fully by letting your arms encircle her back.

You hug her hard, wanting to pour dozens of apologies into her body, as you feel overcome with guilt when the girl pulls away with a smile and says sweetly, “You _are_ a lightweight.”

Your hands still resting on Costia, you face Lexa who seems distant and indifferent.

Unsure of what to do, you let your arms fall to your sides and give the girl with the brown mane a nod. To your surprises, she closes the gap between you and rigidly encloses her arms around your waist. The embrace you are sharing now is vastly different from the one you had shared hours ago.

_But you take whatever little she will give you._

You clasp your arms around her and murmur into her locks, “Thank you”.

You can hear her hesitate, but she ultimately decides to speak as she relaxes slightly in your hold, “Anytime… Camus.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is what I wanted to give you”, you breathe, “The sky.”

_I will never be a morning person_ , you think in the waking hours of the morning. Reluctantly, you flutter your eyes open, attempting to dispose of the fatigue that is firmly holding on to your eyelashes and weighing them down. You feel as though all of the sleepless moments of the night had found their way into the crevices below your eyes and chosen that as their resting place. A grunt is released from the back of your throat, remembering that you had cluttered the dusk and dawn with thoughts of exchanged embraces and shared glances. Yet again, you groan at yourself, faintly agitated and frustrated at the weakness of your own heart and its eagerness to give in. You decide to rise and abandon it in the safety of your room.

 

The sound of clashing pans, hissing food and the occasional proclamation of the word _shit_ guides you to the kitchen. Raven is preparing breakfast with such an elegance, that you cannot help but wonder how she has not set fire to the apartment. “Good morning sunshine”, she utters happily, before she turns her attention to the stove and continues, “I’d ask how you slept, but you look like shit.” You mutter under your breath, feigning insult, as you walk over to the counter and prop yourself on your elbows.

 

Today was Saturday and you were immensely grateful for not being bound by academic responsibilities and obligations. You release a sigh and speak into your hands, “I’m meeting with Costia today.” Despite the culinary commotion, Raven’s thoughts are unspoken, yet audible. “Ray, trust me, I know. But I really like Costia and it’s not her fault I’m a shit person.” Raven takes out two plates and serves you the product of her efforts which, by the looks of it, you would not mind passing on. She turns her attention to you and says, “It’s not like you’re falling for Lexa on purpose, Clarke. And you never have to justify yourself with me. Just make sure that you have a good time.” You take a bite of the food, it tasting similar to a compilation between rubber and cardboard. “You should come with. The more the merrier! Besides, I know Costia really liked you”, you reply pleadingly. She nods back in response and spits out her food, “You probably shouldn’t continue eating that”. And suddenly, for more than one reason, you feel somewhat more enthusiastic about your day.

 -

You were picking up Costia at her apartment. Impulsively you clench the steering wheel with sweaty palms. “For fucks sake, would you relax”, Raven states with a roll of her eyes, “Just let go of whatever it is that you’re feeling. I get it, it’s not their fault, but it sure as hell isn’t your fault either for the way you feel. It’s just a crush and it’ll go away if you give it time. Yes?” _Crush_ , you think to yourself. You taste the word in your mouth, but cannot help the impression that it does not match the budding feeling in your bones.

 

In the same instant, the door of the building opens and out walks a smiling Costia. To you she appears to be perpetually effervescent, a contagious quality that you adore about her. Her hand goes into a wave, before she swings it and prevents the door from closing. _Oh god_. “Now, let’s calm down”, Raven tries to state evenly, even though her voice hums with a muffled astoundment. Your heart clenches at the sight of brown locks spilling over shoulders and hurts a little when fingers entangle with Costia’s. _I’m such a shit_. Raven lowers her hand on your leg and exhales a breath of concern, “See this as therapy. Seeing them like this will help you move the fuck on.”

 

The girls walk up to the car, shuffle into the back seat and as they are putting on their seatbelts, both you and Raven greet them cheerfully. “Do you even have a plan of where we are going”, Lexa asks while shifting her gaze between you and your friend. Her eyes on you feel too pleasant, therefore you avert your attention to the front of the car. As you turn the engine on, Raven proclaims, “I know the best food place. But it’s in Santa Barbara...” An unspoken agreement lingers in the air as you push the gas pedal, rolling the car onto the road.

 

You have barely been driving for an hour, when you feel your eyelids begin to close with an ease. “I’m sorry guys”, you state, “I have to pull over. Raven, would you mind driving?” Raven nods, as you take the next exit, finding a resting spot. All of you walk out of the car and stretch your arms into the warm air, as Costia closes the distance between you and clasps her arms around you. “I didn’t get a chance to do this earlier”, she speaks and continues with, “Hi”. You counter by embracing her tightly, letting a smile fall out of your mouth, and through lidded eyes respond, “Hi there.” “You didn’t get much sleep last night”, Costia’s statement worded more like a question. “No. Is it that obvious?”, you inquire while gesturing to your face. “Absolutely not”, Costia replies without hesitation, “You are as beautiful as ever”. _She is too thoughtful._ She lets go of you, walks up to Lexa and entangles her arm around her waist. Conflicted, you attempt to kill the creeping feeling that resembles jealousy, at the same time as you genuinely believe that the two of them belong with one another.

 

They were polar opposites in numerous ways, but they were the same in the one way where it counted the most, they were humans of the year _. You deserved neither of them._

 

Raven bridges the gap between you and protectively loops her arm around you, “Clarke has a lot on her mind.” Lexa’s gaze is warmly fixed on you, as she considers whether the things you had spoken about, under the protection of cracking branches and swaying leaves, were the same things that troubled you now. Not knowing how to respond to her thoughts, you simply shake your head and utter, “Nothing serious. Minor issues.” Before the conversation has gained any type of momentum, Raven interrupts and motions to the car, “Shall we?”

 

Costia and Raven walk over to the driver side and enter the car, as you and Lexa stand motionless on the passenger side. You rest your arms on the roof of the car, while her hand is still on the door handle, anticipating you to speak. “It’s a little bit of everything”, you say barely above a whisper. She observes you with a gentleness, as equally tender words leave her mouth, “You can always go to the place that I showed you. It is yours.” A thought begins to resonate against the walls of your temples. You know it well. And with intensifying remorse, you pretend not to hear it, _not without you._

 

As you collapse into your seat, Raven scrutinizes you with a complete lack of amusement. “Drive”, you express sternly. “Your wish is my command, my queen”, Raven states and adds, “You should try and catch up on sleep.” Your ensuing nod ends in a tilt onto the window, weighed down by exhaustion.

 

“Clarke, wake up! It’s just a nightmare!” You open your eyes, feeling disoriented and confused. It takes you a moment to comprehend that Lexa had managed to push herself between the seats, her hand clasped around your arm. She knows what you were dreaming about and it is that knowledge that keeps her hand on yours, even when the others have let go. Your eyes meet hers, “I’m okay”. The lioness observes you with doubt, as you throw your hand on hers and proclaim, “I promise”. It is here that you realize how comfortable it feels, your fingerprints marking the back of her hand. Embarrassed, you immediately recoil and release her hand from the weight of yours. “Do you want us to go back home?”, Costia asks, her tone coated in concern. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble”, rasps out of your mouth.

 

Your feelings are excessive and their burden lavish. _Wasteful amounts of sadness. Wasteful amounts of worry. But also, wasteful amounts of love._

 

-

 

You are apathetically sprawled out on the couch that same evening. Your hair, in equal measure, obscuring your face and the orange Cheetos stains covering your shirt. The blanket resting on your legs functions more as a napkin than anything else, as you carelessly wipe your hands on it. You were alone in the apartment, which would have suited you perfectly, if it was not for the fact that it would not last very long. Raven had taken precautionary measures and called someone to take her spot for the evening. Knowing that it was Octavia, you had begun drinking copious amounts of water, aware that she never comes without a whiskey bottle in tow.

 

The doorbell rings and you practically run towards it, excited to see your friend. As you swing the door open, a smile breaks free from your lips. “Hi”, the girl sheepishly says, somewhat uncomfortable. You recoil slightly at the unexpected sight, “ _Lexa_ …” “Raven called me. But I also needed to see how you were feeling considering what happened earlier today.” You feel as though thousands of needles are prickling your insides, multiplying each time the realization washes over you that _she_ is here. “Come on in”, you usher her.

 

Giving her enough time to take off her jacket, you lead her into the living room and apologize for the mess. “I know the apartment looks like shit. And I know I look like shit”, you state. The girl only smiles and brushes her hair from her face, “You look like someone who wanted to be alone tonight.” You relax in place as you wheeze out, “I’m actually very happy that you are here.”

 

Both of you sink into the couch. Feeling slightly more self-conscious, you pull your hair back and latch the curls behind your ear. It quickly dawns on you that you had just wiped the orange off of your fingers and into the golden of your hair. “Wonderful”, you squeak and turn to Lexa, inquiring fretful, “How bad is it?” She drags her gaze from your eyes to your hair with a slight tilt of the head, as she reaches out with her hand and pulls gently at the golden strands. “It is not bad at all. If you have a craving for snacks later tonight, you know where to look”, she speaks through a poorly contained smile. “You are so ill-informed”, you reply with a grin, “I never wait for food”. With that, you unhitch your hair and pretend to consume it, declaring to the girl, “You are welcome to join me in the feast. There’s plenty to go around”. Lexa responds with a laughter that practically foams at her mouth, “I am famished!” _And you cannot help but wish that you had met her first._

 

The night seeps in and you become mindful of the fact that this moment is coming to an end. You whip your head towards the girl, with your hand mimicking the motion and landing on her arm, “You are leaving soon”. The statement worded as a question. She murmurs, before her lips open and she responds, “I do. It is getting late.”

 

In one cohesive motion, you rise to your feet and begin to fold the blanket that had been covering you, gesturing towards the girl, “Fold that one too. We are going to need it.” The way her head angles and eyes dim propels you to speak further, “I have a present for you. It’s not far from here and I’d like to give it to you tonight, before you leave. As a thank you.” You push your hands towards your chest, “If that’s alright?” While looking at you, she silently thrusts herself up and begins to fold the cover, “It is quite alright.”

 

-

 

You drive, despite it being Lexa’s car. A perpetual smile was imprinted in the cracks of your lips, tugging at the strings below your ribcage. And each time you would glance at the body sloped in the seat next to you, the strings would tense and vibrate in tune. You take the next exit and follow the curvy road up the mountain. “Almost there”, you declare, while rolling down your window. The hum of the freeway was long gone and in its stead, silence and the smell of pine trees filled the inside of the car. You savored the taste of spring as it heaved its way to your lungs. You carefully glimpse towards Lexa, who had propped her entire upper body onto the open window and through closed eyes spoke into the nocturnal air, “This alone would have made a wonderful gift, Clarke.”

 

Not long after, you turn onto a wide and empty piece of land. You park the car and exit, while motioning for her to follow you. You lead her to a lonely, wooden bench, perched almost on the edge of the rock face, overlooking the city. You are surrounded by the rawness of nature, the smell of trees, dirt and rocks suspended in the air. “This is very beautiful”, she utters. You simply nod, allowing the lingering silence to heighten the beauty of the moment.

 

After a little while you speak quietly, attempting not to damage the serenity that had encircled you, “This isn’t what I wanted to show you.” You stretch out the palm of your hand, as she hesitantly clasps her fingers around it and allows you to guide her. You walk back to the car and standing in front of it, you stretch out one of the blankets on the ground. Laying down, you gently tug at her arm to do the same, but say, “Keep your eyes closed”. She releases a breath of surrender as she imitates your motion and does as instructed. When you are both still, your back on the rough ground, you whisper, “And now, open your eyes.” The sharp breath that enters her mouth is instantly released, accompanied by the words, “ _Amazing_ , Clarke.”

 

It was a clear night. The sky cluttered with stars, varying in different sizes. Some were brighter than others, yet each leaving an imprint in the darkness. _So many of them_. The wonderment at the vastness of the sky above, made you feel unbounded. And knowing that you were rooted in this moment with her, made you feel resolved. Yes, the beautiful monstrosity above was too preoccupied with creating new celestial beings, while devouring others, to acknowledge two bodies laying below it. But you knew that, at this point in time, you and she had created a ripple in time where, for a brief moment, your paths had merged into one. And whether the stars would admit to seeing you there, sprawled in the dirt, did not matter to you. “This is what I wanted to give you”, you breathe, “The sky.” She is quiet, but she grips your hand harder as she whispers, “Thank you for my souvenir, _Clarke_.”

 

-

 

You find yourself in the car once again, driving back home. You continuously tap your index finger against the steering wheel, experiencing an internal debate. Finally, you decide to speak, “I have one last thing I’d like to share with you”. You can feel the spark lighting behind your eyes, confirming that there is no better person to divulge what you are about to explain. With your free hand, you point towards the planes in the distance, preparing to land, “They have to cross the freeway fairly close”, you pause allowing the girl to take in your words, “So, how would you like to chase airplanes with me?” Lexa releases a laughter, “And how exactly do we do that?” You proceed by rolling down all of the windows, the air rapidly flowing in and out. “We too need to feel as though we are flying”, you yell, “You have to do the work though, since I’m driving.” Both of you smiling as she stubbornly tries to brush her curls away from her face to better meet yours. You continue, “Pretty much we are going to try to get right under the plane as it crosses the freeway and _you_ are going to catch it with your hand. It’s fun! _Trust me_!”

 

With that, you slightly increase the speed and instruct her to choose a distant, but approaching dot. As she points towards one, you raise the volume of the music and yell to her, “Now, put your arm out! Have fun! Remember, you too are flying!” The cyclone in the car twists in your hair, strands cascading, the music drumming, as Lexa stretches her arm out and closes her eyes. ”We are going to miss it”, she yells through laughter. Her entire demeanor makes your lips expand into a smile, “Have some faith!” You cannot help but feel utterly complete, observing her open palm in the air, reaching towards the sky. “Now!”, the word sharp, as she turns her attention towards the night above, and stretches her open hand towards the massive, steel giant, passing over you. When it is gone, she leans back into the car, “Fuck! I almost had it! How can I go home without my own airplane?” And you knew that you were going home with something much, _much_ , better.

 

You park the car in front of your apartment complex. When you exit, Lexa’s stride is quick as she walks over to you and tugs you into her arms. She pulls away slightly, while her hands still rest on your arms, “I am lost for words, Clarke.” You reciprocate with a smile, despite the constant shifting of your weight from one foot to the other, “My debt is repaid”. “ _Plentiful_ ”, the word gently bouncing off of her tongue. “Thank you only goes so far”, you declare.

 

She looks at you softly, faintly squeezing your arms, unsure of what else to do or say. And you wish you could hold her. _Lexa. Lexa. Lexa. Lexa_. The drumming familiar and absolute. Reluctantly you untangle your arms, as her face turns somber, “I have to leave. I’m sure Costia is waiting for me.” _What am I doing?_ And before she gets in the car she gives you one last glance, “I will be looking for you in the stars, Clarke.” You point towards the darkness above and croak more seriously than you intended, “By that star is where I’ll be waiting.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because, Clarke”, she whispers under her breath, “I look for you in the sky, when it should be her.”

When you turn the key in the lock and carefully open the door, you are relieved by the fact that you still seem to be the only one home. You put no effort in closing the door behind you, or taking your shoes off, or placing your keys in their designated spot in the hallway, as you drag your feet behind you, collapsing on your bed. _By that star is where I’ll be waiting_. The thought swishing around your mind, like dirty laundry, feeding every seed of guilt that has been carefully planted in your body. Disappointment, but more than anything, frustration that the words had slid off your tongue so effortlessly. Disappointment, but more than anything, frustration that you had meant each syllable, as if they carried no consequence. You had put yourself ahead with utter disregard for anyone else. _In particular Costia_. That night you only fall asleep once your eyes are dry from crying.

 

When the first signs of daylight come pushing in through your window, you feel thankful. The burden of the previous night was finally over and you could begin anew. You burrow your head into your pillow and wish that you could remain there until nighttime comes rolling around again. _But that would be hiding_. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your cellphone. Without hesitation, you swing your arm and let it come crashing on top of the device. “Hello”, you answer. There is a brief pause on the other end, as if the person is reevaluating whether or not it might have been too early in the morning for a call. A soft voice utters, “Bleh, bleh, bleh.” An immediate smile trails its path to the wounds that have vividly expressed themselves through your eyes, and soothes them. There is only one person in the entire world that would greet you in such a way. “Bleh, bleh, bleh to you, too”, with your vocal chords barely shaking off their raspiness. “I see we’re not too old for cartoon references”, you declare with delight. A breath of air escapes the person on the other end, “Never”, they say and continue lightheartedly, “But I might be getting too old, since I can’t seem to remember how your face looks like.” You allow a chuckle to seep out, making room for your words, “Well, then you are in luck. You will be reminded of this beautiful face when it sees you next weekend, mom”. You can hear her laugh, which makes your chest sting a little, wishing that you could make all of her struggles disappear.

 

Not a moment too soon, Raven swings the door to your room open and, like a broken machine, falls into place next to you. “Well, well, well. How the tables have turned. Look who looks like shit _now_ ”, you say sarcastically, while trying to hide the fact that the corners of your mouth are being tugged upwards. Exhibiting an immense amount of effort, Raven manages to roll onto her side and face you, “How was last night… jerk?” You exert a compressed breath that leaves your ribs, throat and mouth sore. Almost instinctively, your hands settle on your chest, trying to hold back whatever is about to come rushing out, as if they are able to restrain it in your flesh. However, Raven is no stranger. She pushes herself closer to you and cradles you with her arm, “It’ll be okay, Clarke. _Everything_ will be okay.”

 

-

 

You enjoy the silence. The only sound is emanating from the noise of your feet hitting the asphalt. The morning is chilly and you revel in the way your lungs expand when you breathe it in. It was barely 11 am when you walked up the concrete stairs in the apartment building that you had never been in before. You plant your feet in front of the unfamiliar door on the second floor and knock. The first knock is hesitant. The other too soft. The third is just about right. “Welcome”, she says with a smile, as she opens the door and pulls you inside. You follow Costia into the kitchen, as she gestures towards the culinary mess, “Breakfast is almost ready! So, you make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

 

You fidget with your hands, grabbing the hem of your sleeves, feeling slightly out of place. _Comfortable. Need to look comfortable. Probably not looking comfortable right now._ _Clarke, look comfortable_. What you were in fact doing was an extremely poor job in distracting yourself. Ultimately, you grab the nearest chair and slope down in it. “Good morning, Clarke”, you hear a second voice utter. Recognizing it with veracity, you allow a brief moment of calm, before daring to follow its path. Slowly turning your head, your eyes tracking your movement, you land on high cheekbones and ruffled hair. And the way she had said your name, as though you were a cube of sugar that had melted on her tongue, made you wonder if anyone had noticed how your chest convexed at the sound. Holding that breath in, you utter an impassive, “Good morning to you, too.” Lexa walks over to Costia and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, as you push out the hitched breath from before and feel a heaviness in the pit of your stomach.

 

Costia turns her attention to you and asks with concern in her amber eyes, “Do you feel better today?” You prop your elbows on the kitchen counter, clasp your fingers and move them to the ridge of your mouth. Debating what answer seemed the better option, Costia pushes out, “I’m happy you and Lexa have found each other.” You angle your head slightly, catching a better view of Costia’s face. “You know what I mean”, she continues, “You make her relax in her own skin. I mean to the point where she’s even chasing airplanes?” She allows a delightful chuckle to tumble out. “And you Clarke, I’m happy you have her. I can tell that you are going through something and if Lexa is anything, she’s a wonderful listener.” With her words, the intimacy of last night dissipated. Ripples spread against the blue of your eyes, failing to notice the shift in Lexa’s gaze, before she adjusted her jaw and wiped herself of all emotion.

And you think to yourself- _You’re unequivocally going straight to hell, Clarke_.

 

-

 

When you walk into your apartment, you are surprised to find Raven waiting at the door. She gestures with her head towards your bedroom, a smirk lingering on her face, “Aren’t you the popular one today.” Instinctively you raise your eyebrows in confusion and slowly make your way in the direction that you were instructed to. Cautiously you crack the door open and push your head through the gap. “Oh”, you utter. Once the bewilderment had settled and resolved, your stride is slow towards the bed where you sit down next to him. “Hey”, Finn says innocently. He opens his palms and rubs the fabric of his jeans, and you wonder if this is the first time that you witness him tense and nervous. “I was thinking”, he continues while barely making a pause, “if you would like to go out with me? Maybe? Sometime.” A cold silence sweeps the room. The feeling of whether or not it is fair that you lie to yourself and him when your head dips into a nod, is quickly replaced with a clench of your jaw.

 

And this is how your week passes. It passes in movie nights and dinners. It passes in drinks and laughter. It passes in shy and calloused fingers holding your hesitant ones. It passes in chapped lips burying into each other, as if there was something to prove. It passes in yearning each time she was around and, like a parched fool, you would instead drink yourself full from his mouth. It passes in guilt. It passes. The week passes. The only remaining constant being the concaving of your chest each time you try to drown the thought, _you’re not her._

 

-

 

“Where in fucktopia are they?”, Octavia asks impatiently. Even though San Francisco was not very far away, driving there could be wearisome and you were eager to get on the road. You focused on the hum of the engine as you closed your eyes and placed your hands on your neck, providing well needed pressure, while still remaining silent. As you swiped your fingers against your muscles, counting the nights in each knot that you had vehemently tied, the sound of the car door opening stops you in your tracks and allows for your hands to fall on the steering wheel. “Cos is not coming”, Raven utters surprised. You twist your body around at the exact moment as Lexa opens her mouth in preparation to speak when, catching your eyes, she briefly falters, “She is not coming. She forgot that she had made prior commitments. She sends her apologies, Clarke.” You think, _I’m happy you’re here_ , while gazing at her as if she was the last drop of water carried in the palm of your hand. However, what leaves your mouth is, “No need for apologies. There’ll be plenty of other times.”

 

The trip seemed much, much longer. Night had begun to leak in through the windows and, coupled with the monotony of the road, began to make you feel tired. Raven and Finn had taken the responsibility of driving, allowing you to rest in the backseat. You had tried to resist their help, knowing that Lexa would be sitting pinched between you and Octavia, but ultimately had given up. Partly because sleep was beginning to creep in under your eyelids and partly because, well, _Lexa_. You took your designated spot in the back, nervously pretending to appear as relaxed as possible. Resigned, you sunk deeper into the seat, with a hollow yawn making its presence known. Octavia had remained quiet for the majority of the trip and was now, with her head tilted against the window, fast asleep. You followed the trail of bread crumbs from Octavia back to your lap, but not without glancing at the slumbering body next to you. Looking at her, you can feel a smile tugging at your lips.

 

 _Stop staring_ , you scold yourself. Averting your eyes, you run your fingers through the golden of your hair and let out the ghost of a sigh. Part of it rattling out between your lips and part of it remaining in your lungs, just enough, to keep on biting down each time the thought of her floods your veins. Uncomfortable, you fidget in place and, without consideration, grab the hand that was resting on the seat next to you. Once you realize that it is hers, your grip becomes gentle and you feel remorse for how harsh it had been before. You hold her open palm and, failing to remember why it was there in the first place, delicately brush your fingertips over the ridges in her prints and patterns, as if wonders are secretly stored in them. Your hand, as if having a mind of its own, follows the path to the few carelessly scattered locks, tenderly hooking them in place behind her ear. Your touch is light, as if she would break if you were any harder and, at the same time, as if you were not doing it at all. You softly place her hand in her lap and, before increasing the distance, you momentarily consent to your head falling on the slope of her shoulder, barely weighing it down. Your touch is light, as if she would break if you were any harder and, at the same time, as if you were not doing it at all. And before you have drifted into sleep, you can feel her chin move and rest on the top of your golden hair, as she sighs heavy into the nocturnal air.

 

When Finn pulls the car over and the engine goes quiet, the silence ends up breathing life into the air, as the slumbering bodies begin to wake. It is quickly replaced with the sound of car doors opening and the patter of feet hitting the ground. Octavia and Raven climb the hood of the car, relaxing with their backs against the metal, arms tucked neatly underneath their heads, eyes levelled with the sky. “This is beautiful”, Finn utters as he advances towards you, clasping his arms around your waist and placing a kiss on your lips. You neglect to see that Lexa walks away, hands resigned in surrender behind her back.

 

Your eyes searching for her swiftly, find her standing a few feet away, head tilted towards the stars. She looks young and small, and you wish you could cradle her innocence in your arms. You walk over to her and gently loop your arm through hers. Two vessels standing in the chill of the night, gazing into the darkness above. “I’m glad this is yours”, you say, “Because, whenever I look up, I only think of you”. The words escape before you can dig your teeth into your tongue and hold it still. Lexa, on the other hand, remains silent, her face appearing indifferent. You take a moment to gather yourself, before gently tugging at her arm, as you begin the walk back. One second, there was only the sound of the dirt crunching beneath the soles of your shoes and the other, there were whispers, “Whenever I look up, I only think of you, too.” Her words light, as if she would break if they were any louder and, at the same time, as if she had not said them at all.

 

You arrive at your mother’s house around 2 am. Each of you, as silently as possible, shuffle inside the house. You end up standing awkwardly in the hallway, bags and loose straps hanging from tired shoulders and heavy arms, waiting for you to break the silence, “Finn, you’ll be sleeping in the upstairs guest room. Ray; you and O will take my bed. Lexa, you get the guest room that’s on this floor. And I’ll be sleeping on the couch in the living room.” With that, you motion for Finn and the two girls to follow you, as you guide them to their rooms. “Goodnight, _queen_ ”, Octavia smirking the words out. It elicits a smile from you, but you wave it away with a roll of your eyes. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you find Lexa patiently waiting, exactly in the same position you had left her in. “This way”, you whisper as you pass her by and her quickly falling into step behind you. You walk through the living room, past the kitchen and open a door that lies directly adjacent to it. She enters the room, as you remain standing in the doorway. “When you wake up in the morning Lexa, don’t be afraid to wake me up.” She only nods, seeming slightly shy and sheepish. You push yourself off the threshold and, in two steps, bridge the gap between you, “Thank you for coming”. Your tone somewhat breathy and low. When she does not say anything, you leave her side, your hand already on the door handle, as you utter, “Goodnight, Lexa.” Before you have fully closed the door, she finally manages to say with a steady voice, “Clarke, anytime.”

 

-

 

It is morning and your eyes open. “Mom”, you stutter, suddenly being conscious of the fact that her arms were enclosed around you, as she was practically falling off of the edge of the couch. She speaks softly, “You’re here”, bending down and placing a peck on the tip of your nose. When you look at her, she seems tired and vibrant, all at once. There is still a vast amount of strength behind her eyes, the incentive to continue fighting and to not concede. You run your fingers over the pink scarf wrapped around her head, your fingertips stinging with an ache, as you state tenderly, “Lovely. _You_ look lovely, mom.” And you hug her, and hug her, and hug her. “How does the lady feel about some breakfast”, you speak as you make your way to the kitchen. Your mother releases a murmur, a memory of a time before this, as a sense of nostalgia coats the air, “Oh, please! Your scrambled eggs is something I have dearly missed.” The normalcy of the situation feels strange, especially since everything was vastly different and far away from anything remotely familiar. You hand her the plate of food, content that her healthy appetite has remained, as you walk over to Lexa’s door.

 

You knock once and open the door ajar. The room is bright. Morning rays are finding their repose in her locks, that you find beautifully scattered on her pillow. You walk in and close the door behind you. “Lexa”, you whisper. You take a step towards her, stopping once reaching the bed and hesitate before you whisper again, “Lexa?” You reach out and carefully lift the curl that was covering her face, placing it neatly next to her. “Good morning”, she whispers back through tired eyes. You sit down on the edge of the bed and utter softly, “Good morning. How did you sleep?” She props herself onto her elbows and furrows her brows, “Well. But I would sleep much better if I knew that you were sleeping here instead of me. I would like to take the couch tonight, Clarke.” You cannot help the smile that escapes you, “Maybe. But for now, how does breakfast sound?”

 

You walk into the kitchen, with Lexa following you closely behind. “Mom”, you say as to capture her attention, “This is Lexa.” Your mother stands up with outstretched arms, only relaxing once they are clasped around the girl’s back, “Finally. Clarke hasn’t stopped talking about you. I’m Abby.” And before Lexa can reply, she tugs at you both, pulling you on to the patio, where she sits down in one of the wooden chairs, “I’m happy you’re both here.” You feel slightly taken aback, as if your mother could read each beat carefully concealed in your chest, before you take the time to respond, “I’m happy we are, too.” And in that moment, before you can continue the conversation, Raven and Octavia walk out, wild haired and cheerful, clutching their arms around your mother, “Mrs. G!” You notice Finn in the background, patiently waiting his turn. When his hand meets your mother’s, he is polite and gentle, and says all the right things. Quickly, he finds his way to you, placing his hand on top of yours, as your mother speaks, “So, what are you kids doing today?” “Well”, Octavia responds, “Hitting up a bar? Yes?” You shake your head, “Not me. I’d like to spend some time with my mom. If that’s alright?” Raven sends a glare your way and states jokingly, “Clarke, you are such a party pooper.”

 

-

 

When night falls, you find yourself slumped on the couch. You were warmly seated between your mother and Lexa, while Finn was already asleep on the other end. You appreciated the fact that they both had decided to stay with you, even though you had made it clear that it was not necessary. Your gaze falls on Finn, looking uncomfortable, as you silently make your way to him. You tenderly cup his cheek and whisper, “Come on. We need to get you to bed.” Considerably disoriented, he clings to your arm like a small child, and allows you to guide his step. His stride is slow, lethargically dragging his feet up each step. When you reach his bedroom, he wraps his arm around your waist, brushes a soft kiss on your lips and murmurs into them, “Goodnight, princess.” And when he disappears into the dark, you know that you are not being fair.

 

Moments later, you find your way back to your seat and sink into the couch. Your mother releases a prolonged yawn and speaks at the same time, her words echoing against the roof of her mouth, making it sound distorted, “Girls, I’m surrendering for tonight.” Unhurriedly she pushes herself to her feet, only bending down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams, girls”, she states while leaving, her pace growing quieter by each step. You turn your attention towards Lexa and pat the empty space next to you, gesturing for her to get closer. She approaches gradually and, once satisfied with the proximity, pulls the blanket up to her chin and leans on the pillow between you. “Tired”, you ask. Drowsy eyes find yours, “Tired. But, if you do not mind, I would like to stay here with you.” You remain silent, while grabbing the pillow from under her head, positioning it in your lap and waiting for her to understand your intention with the motion. There is a brief spark of indecision, but ultimately she follows through and places her locks of hair in your lap. “It is quite alright”, you mumble into them.

 

It does not take long before she falls asleep. You absentmindedly run your fingers through her hair, letting each strand encircle your fingertips. And you think. And you think. And you think. _I could care for him the way I care for her._ And you lie. And you lie. And you lie. “I can hear your thoughts, Clarke. They are loud.” You gaze down at her, a smile on your lips, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” Lexa releases a sigh that flutters in her eyelashes, slowly finding her balance as she pushes herself up, “I would rather stay awake.” You stretch your hand towards the table in front of you, grabbing the glass and finishing the rest of your whiskey. It washes down the dryness in your throat and allows for a warmth to settle. “Lexa”, you finally gaining the courage to ask, “When you said that you always look for me in the stars, what did that mean?”

 

Time stops. It is almost as if you can feel each molecule suspended in the air, weighing heavy on you. Tension blankets the room, as you try to search for the words that escaped you, wanting to push them back inside your mouth. _Shit_. She parts her lips, but nothing pours out. You feel as though there is not enough oxygen in the room. “Costia and I are no longer a couple. We deemed it more fitting to only remain as friends.” “What the fuck”, the words barely wheezing out through your teeth, “Why?” “Because, Clarke”, she whispers under her breath, “I look for you in the sky, when it should be her.” With that, she rises to her feet, walks over to her room and closes the door behind her.

 

-

 

You wake up when the smell of freshly brewed coffee reaches you. You thrust the comforter off of your body and stare at the ceiling. _What now?_ Not being able to handle the influx of thoughts, you rise to your feet and hope that they remain imbedded in your pillow. You walk out on the patio, your feet landing on the warm wood. Your mother, eyes closed and face turned towards the sun like a sunflower, speaks softly, “Good morning. How did you sleep?” You sit on the chair opposite her, feeling as though you are about to disintegrate, “Not well.” Raven walks out and lays down on the floor, “Don’t mind me. I’m just dead. Octavia is deader, though. So, she is going to stay in bed. Carry on.” “I have no idea what I’m doing”, you say defeated, cradling your face in your palms. Raven immediately gets up and sits next to you, “What happened?” Feeling embarrassed, you continue staring into the table, “Lexa and I had a serious conversation last night. Her and Costia broke up, because she might have feelings for me.” “Fucking crap on a stick”, Raven utters surprised, “We chose the wrong night to go out.”

 

Your mother on the other hand, weighs her words carefully before she speaks, “Clarke, putting everything aside, what is the truth? What is the leverage that your head has over your heart?” You lower your voice, not wanting to hear yourself say it out loud, “The truth is that they both deserve better. The truth is that I am selfish. But the truth is also that she is my secret whisper, lingering on my tongue. And when it becomes too heavy to bear, I swallow it. Try to drown it with my blood and the aches of my bones. But no matter what I do, it always finds its way back to my heart, only to resurface as her name on my lips. That is the truth.” A silence settles. “Well, I don’t even know what the fuck to say to that”, Raven speaks wide-eyed. Your mother grabs your hand and holds it gently, as she strokes the back of your palm, “Then this isn’t fair to Finn. Nor is it fair to you. You too are allowed to pursue what you want and need. Even in times of hardship.”

 

-

 

You walk into Finn’s room. He is sprawled out on the bed, lying on his stomach. Once you close the door, the sound jolts him and his eyes find their way to you, the smile on his lips dissolving upon seeing the somber look on your face. “What’s wrong”, he asks concerned, voice husky from sleep. And you feel stupid when the words leave your mouth. He holds you, “It’s alright, Clarke.” He packs his bags. Octavia uttering softly, “It’s nobody’s fault. Shit happens.” Your mother holds him when he says goodbye. And standing on the train station, you cry some more. “Clarke, just be happy. You have enough shit on your plate. And I’m sure that the best thing you can give your mom right now is the knowledge that you’re happy.” He grabs his things as he gets on the train and yells, “See you at school, princess!”

 

You pull into the driveway and walk into the house. “Of course I would find you all here”, you say through a smile as you observe the scattered bodies on the couch. Octavia rises to her feet and declares, “This is now officially a girl’s weekend. And we are starting it off with a barbecue!” As everyone begins to make their way to the backyard, Lexa falls into step next to you and nonchalantly utters into the air in front of her, as if the words were not meant for you, “I’m sorry, Clarke.” Equally stubborn, you refuse to look her way when you decide to speak, “It was the right thing to do.” For the rest of the day, you do not address each other.

 

-

 

When night had found its way back to you, and stillness had seeped into the house, you found yourself wide awake. Thinking. Overanalyzing each detail of every situation until, even the ones that brought you happiness, were considered monotonous and wearisome. You inhaled sharply, placing your hand directly over your heart, trying to decipher the meaning of each beat. _Happiness can only be found through valiance._ Adamantly, you rose to your feet and quickened your stride, until you reached her door. You paused, choosing to waver, as your knuckles brushed against the wood, barely generating a knock. Your hands dropped in defeat, golden strands covering your face, immersing themselves with the salt that had found its way to your lips. You had an urge to let the hollow laughter escape you, it fervently pushing against your clenched teeth. But you swallow it hastily, tasting its bitterness, as the door opens and soft words fill the air, “Clarke.”

 

She takes a step back, granting enough space for you to enter. Awkwardly, your feet guide you to the center of the room and you, instinctively, following them. She watches you intently, her eyes steady, as she closes the door and stands in front of you. Slowly she raises her hand and cups your cheek, soothing the skin below. “We can wait for the sun to rise together.” Her hand slides down your arm, as she leads you to her bed. You lay down on top of the covers, apart, consciously making sure that your body parts are not touching. She falls asleep a few times, but each time she hears you shift in place, her eyes would open and search you concernedly. You stayed there until the first evidence of day began to clash with the darkness of the room. You lidded your eyes and spoke, “You should close your eyes, too.” “I thought the idea was to watch the sunrise”, she utters through a poorly hidden smile, which you fail to see. You gather your breath, tying its ends to the words that were wedged in your throat and, in one cohesive motion, thrust them out collectively, “Maybe, if I close my eyes, this moment will never pass. And if it does, I will never forget how it felt.” Lexa closes her eyes.

 

The room is bright and painted in red, as the light bounces off of the walls, unsettled. You look at her. And as you push yourself away from the bed and her, she opens her eyes and watches you with distress. “I’m not leaving”, you speak low, “I just need to stand, so I can say what I need to say.” Her gaze softens, but the worry does not quite leave her face. You root yourself in the floorboards and let your words tread lightly off of your tongue, “I cannot help but feel as if we are from the same star and... I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.” Your eyes falter and ultimately fall onto the floor, “I’m sorry.” You can hear the ruffle of the sheets, as a warm hand finds yours. She pulls you into her arms and whispers into the crook of your neck, “Clarke, you are the only person I know that would gift someone gold and then apologize for making them rich.” And she holds you. And she holds you. And she holds you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It ended on a good note this time around. But will it last? 
> 
> As far as the interaction between Abby and Clarke goes, the "Bleh, bleh, bleh" is a way my mother and I used to greet each other after we had watched Hotel Transylvania. So, however cheesy it might be, I stole it directly from my own life. There are actually a few instances that I have blatantly stolen from myself. To give you another example, the chasing airplanes part in the last chapter. And now, the secret is out and you know me for what I am.
> 
> Oh! In addition, this part of Clarke's confession, "...I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where", is from a poem by Pablo Neruda.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wish I could take all of your pain. I wish I could, at least, carry half of it. Then I’d be able to hold you by the hand as we leave all of this together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fellow people! I am sorry this has taken some time, but my schedule at work has been insane, mainly consisting of 12 hour shifts. But also, this chapter was not easy to write, since it is primarily written from my personal experience. So, I am inclined to put a trigger warning: this chapter deals in good detail with Abby and her sickness. 
> 
> With that said, I do hope you enjoy it as much as possible.

With your legs crossed and tucked neatly beneath, you chased the wind with the warmth of your lips. With eyes closed and hair dispersed, you nestled your hands into the grass below, holding on to the moment when you woke up to love filled arms and brown curls on your neck, as you forget if it is possible to wake any other way. The sunrise had fed you, yet knowing now what it has to offer, you remained starving for more.

 

A little dazed and a little pensive, you reluctantly rise to your feet and slowly enter the stillness of the house. You tread softly through the silence, until you reach the kitchen counter, and equally quiet, pour yourself a cup of coffee. Holding the warm cup between your fingertips, you lean on your elbows and gaze through the living room window. A sudden smile slipped through the corners of your mouth and on to the ridge of the cup that was currently resting on your lips, as you remembered the surreal events of last night. What you had said, what she had said, how you held her and how she held you.

 

“Earth to Clarke”, your mother says, standing in the doorway, as she teasingly shakes her hand in the air, “I said, good morning”. “Oh”, you manage to push out, as it quickly got overpowered by your chuckle, “Good morning, mom”. But when your eyes meet hers, you can feel a heaviness in the pit of your stomach, knotting itself tighter, until it feels raw. Her appearance was far beyond worn and closest to a famished lion, with tattered mane and poking ribs, still incited by the strength of her spirit to scavenge for that _something_ that would bring it relief. “Anything I can do?”, a husk of a whisper, so silent that it made you unsure if it had left your lips at all. And despite her replying with an even shrug of her shoulders and the words, “I’m okay. Don’t worry so much, Clarke”, you quickly grasp that there is plenty to worry about. With words being redundant, you step in front of her and allow your arms to cradle her, as you rest your head on her chest and count the beat below: _one, two, three, four._ Each a confirmation that she was still her and still here. For now.

 

When you feel her somewhat pulling away, you substitute your unwillingness to do so with a feigning enthusiasm, as you ask, “How does breakfast sound?” Slowly she shakes her head into a refusal, protractedly spattering, “I’m not very hungry right now, sweety”, as she gradually makes her way to the back garden. The process seemed tiring, making you wish that you could pick her up and carry her. “I’m coming with you today”, you declare assertively, making no room for any type of opposition. You had already missed far too many visits and given her far too many times to feel alone.

 

-

 

You sit in silence and, lethargically, a few moments pass. When Raven and Octavia walk through the door, you feel as though new life was breathed into the space, gifting you reprieve, which you guiltily accepted. However, once the girls noticed your mother’s broken posture and weary eyes, they instantaneously exchanged concerned glances. You swiftly anchored yourself to the table, fighting the tide washing over you, dragging you out to sea and leaving you lifeless. But you forget that you can always count on Raven, “Guys, since we are supposed to leave tomorrow, I say we throw a little party tonight. We could all use it.” Your mother smiles at the words and asks, “What do you have in mind?” Raven’s lips are tugged into a well-meaning smirk, “Oh, you leave that to us. But I’m thinking ice cream, movies, drinks and enough food so we don’t have to eat for our entire college year. I’m trying to be economical here.”

 

When the sound of metal hinges being pulled echoes once again, you unsuccessfully manage to contain the way your lips purse shut, trying to withhold the blissful breath that wants to escape, pulling at the end of your cheekbones and trailing its way to your eyes. Hair spilling onto her face and stubborn fingers running through the loops of her locks, she finally realizes that she is being watched, by which she adjusts her jaw and with the lift of her chin utters, “Good morning”. Nearly in unison, she is welcomed and greeted by the bodies around the table. You, however, have remained quiet. She is your secret and therefore you are struggling to, as indifferent as possible, utter the simple words of _good morning_ to her. And when your tongue clicks against your palate, urging the syllables forward, they leave your mouth tasting sweet, allowing it to once again fill with awe, “Hi, Lexa”.

 

You pull out the empty chair next to you, as she closes the distance in a few steps and takes her seat. You actively attempt to avoid each other’s gaze, the display not going unnoticed by Raven, who is now donning a mischievous grin, as her lips part and inquiringly push out, “You look tired, Lex. Not much sleep last night?” Calmly, Lexa turns her attention to Raven and steadily, as if last night had not taken place at all, replies, “I slept very well. Thank you for asking.” When Raven mutters under her breath, “Sure you did”, you felt like shooting her a cautionary glance, but knowing that it would only encourage her more, you decide to interject, “Lexa, I’m going with mom to the hospital today. I was wondering if you’d come with us?” And finally her façade crumbles, “Of course I will go with you, Clarke”, the temperate brook of words slithering from her mouth and, as they find their way to her eyes, tug her lips ever so slightly upwards.

 

Wood on wood, Octavia thrusts her chair back as she stands to her feet and gestures for Raven to do the same, “We should leave and gather provisions for tonight.” When they disappear, your mother decides to follow in their footsteps, “I’m going to get ready. You girls take your time, we don’t leave for another hour.” Alone, you slowly turn your head towards Lexa, exceedingly careful when you lift your hand and gently place it on the back of hers. You witness her eyes narrow at the gesture, before she threads her fingertips with yours and allows a delicious sigh to escape her mouth. You find it peculiar how, someone who frequently exudes and embodies strength, can seem delicate when looking at you. “Did you manage to get any sleep after I left”, you question, while wondering why the flush of embarrassment finds its way to your cheeks. “No”, she responds and goes silent. You tighten your lips and dip your head, when she decides to speak again, “Did you?” Your head remaining low, allows only for your eyes to follow the trail to the green meadows in hers, “No.” You make a brief pause, determining whether to bite back at your words, but ultimately deciding to set them free, “It’s okay, Lexa. I agree. We should take this step by step. Jumping over the foundation, might rock whatever we decide to build on it. I want this to last.” You witness a whirlpool of tenderness in her eyes, as she lifts your hand and gently presses her lips into your palm. “It will”, she adds.

 

-

 

Seeing the hospital made you nauseous. Even the memory of its smell, tasted pungent in your mouth. For you, nothing good happened here.

_This should not be about you._

You follow your mother as she guides you through the automated glass doors and right before you pass the threshold of uncertainty, Lexa’s hand nestles into yours and presses gently, reviving your withered wishes and hopes. In the small waiting room, the animated receptionist utters, “Abby! Back again! And who are these ladies that you have brought with you?” Your mother responds, “I am. This is my little Clarke and her Lexa”, before she motions with her hand towards you and declares, “These are my daughters. My moral support.” Hearing the thoughtfulness leave your mother’s mouth made you feel astonished and rewarded. An undeserving warmth began to expand through your being, as though your mother’s words had managed to kindle a small fire in the alcove below your ribcage. Therefore, it takes you a moment to grab the receipt handed to your mother, and follow her through a long hallway. As she makes a left, you enter another waiting room. Four walls, no windows and phosphorescent lights above. Nothing more, except that located in one corner of the room, was a door with a slot in it, your mother pointing at it with her index finger, “The receipt goes through there, sweety.” Walking over, you cordially nod to the other humans occupying the same space, before you push the piece of paper as instructed.

 

Turning around, you walk over to a chair and slide down in the empty seat, almost slouching from the prodigious pressure of being confined to the building. “What should we eat today?”, your mother voices in an evident attempt to distract from the trying situation. “O and Ray are taking care of that, mom”, you reply and add, “But, you think you’ll be able to eat?” She only accomplishes a nod, before the sound of the door opening stops her in her tracks and a woman in scrubs, holding the piece of paper you had pushed through the slot, yells out, “Griffin?” When the door closes behind your mother, you approach Lexa and explain, “She’s leaving blood. A requirement before each treatment.” A sigh escapes you, but the feel of it leaves your throat hoarse, “It shouldn’t take long. The chemotherapy, on the other hand, will take about three hours.” “Clarke”, the sound of her voice is inviting, as she continues, “I am here with you. Remember, anytime.” And there it is, the relief of being understood without having the need to say anything.

 

-

 

Once again, the noise of the door opening brings silence to the room. Your mother walks through and motions towards the hallway, “Now we make our way up.” You found it unnerving. It was an unwelcome reminder to all those times your mother was hospitalized and to all those nights you had decided to stay by her side, roaming the very same corridors.

 

You take the elevator to floor number five. The creaking of the metal, as it slowly made its way up like a wounded animal, contracted your breath to reach only as far as your throat. The doors finally open and your mother leads you towards the center of the room, announcing, “We have to wait”. You feel more irritable than uneasy, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Abby!”, you hear a high pitched voice utter, “Welcome, welcome. Let’s get started”. The nurse directs you to a door at the end of the hallway, immediately setting your mother in motion, followed closely by Lexa and, lastly, you. _This is real._ The thought propels you to raise your hand, gently hooking your finger in her belt loop and Lexa, understanding you even in hushed whispers and undeclared words, significantly slowing down her walk, allowing you to be carried by her.

 

The room you find yourself in is of smaller size, with three massage chairs lining one side of the wall. You and Lexa take your seat opposite of them, on two rather gangly, wooden chairs. The nurse commences the procedure by cleaning the area around the portacath located below your mother’s clavicle bone, before she pierces the needle through it. And before leaving the room, she makes sure that all of the intravenous tubing is correctly connected by executing a simple test: briefly, few inches from the floor, she lowers one of the IV bags, and once blood begins to trickle from your mother into the tube, she exclaims, “It’s all fine. I’ll leave you to it.” _It’s not all fine. Just leave already_.

 

Your mother closes her eyes and falls asleep. And you? You anxiously await the moment when you can leave, abandoning the sickness to rot in the walls of the building, along with the life that was not yours to lead. But you had to remind yourself that this was the easy part. “Are you alright, Clarke?”, Lexa’s voice scything its way through vines of white noise. You cannot even muster the strength to dip your head into a solemn nod. _This is real_. _Be strong_.

 

-

 

“You guys are back!”, Raven blurts out and, just as quickly, swallows hard enough to drown the breath lodged in her vocal chords, preventing it from giving new life to her words. As you enter the house, your mother excuses herself with the argument of needing rest. You know that this is partially true. You know, that below the valor plated on her chest, she too is afraid. “We should start the barbecue now. It’ll be done by the time mom is up”, you speak inattentively, grabbing the beer bottle standing on the living room coffee table and walking out into the garden. _I could sleep for years._ “Is everything okay”, Octavia’s steady voice addresses you. You tilt your head back and pull the bottleneck to your lips, drenching the blooming dread rooted behind the bars of your ribcage, hoping it would saturate in the liquid and, ultimately, wilt. You manage to gurgle out at a response, “It is what it is.” “Clarke”, Octavia offers as an afterthought, “I won’t ask. But know, I’m here.”

 

The evening is warm and humid, the smell of rain lingering in the air. The occasional hum of the breeze would announce itself by nipping at the ends of your hair before, just as quickly, disappearing into the trees. The aroma emanating from the hot charcoal, produces a smoky amalgamation that pleasantly swirls around your palate, finding its way home to your lungs. “Hello, girls. Already started, I see”, the voice slightly raspy, as it resonates against the surroundings. There is a continuous fluidity in the sound, with no interruption, as a reverberation is heard back, “Mrs. G! Welcome!”

 

Aware that your mother has a dietary restriction due to her illness, even though you would prefer that she would give less of a fuck and instead indulge into whatever craving she might have, you grab an empty bottle and fill it with apple juice. “We can pretend that it’s beer”, as you hand her the drink. Without delay, she takes a prolonged sip and states, “That’s the best tasting beer I’ve ever had.” The beginning of a temperate laughter can be heard around the table, before it quickly turns into a roar. “Tequila time”, Raven declares, grabbing four shot glasses as she pours the liquid with such grace, that she makes it abundantly clear that she is no novice. “One moment”, Lexa interjects, rising to her feet and walking into the house. A brief moment later, she steps next to your mother, placing a shot glass in front of her and filling it with water. And when she speaks, her facial features are indifferent, but you recognize the tenderness that flickers in the green of her eyes, “Tonight we drink to adversity. And considering that you are a paragon of strength, it would only be fair if you partook in the toast as well.” Your mother watches Lexa with a quiver in her chin, when Raven declares, “Alright you saps! To Abby! And to health!” You stand up, your gaze shifting from your friends, to your mother and landing on the rim of Lexa’s eyelashes, “And to love. When all resources have been exhausted, love will heal what once was broken.”

 

And when your mother’s favorite song is played, you are not afraid to indulge in a smile, and accompany her in singing it as loudly as possible.

 

-

 

Your mother releases a bellowing yawn, pushing herself to her feet, “It’s time for sleep”. Before she leaves, she walks over to each set of hair and places a soft kiss in its strands. Yet, standing in front of Lexa, you witness a fleeting hesitation, as she opens her arms and clasps them with reverence around her. “Goodnight, my girls.” Halfheartedly you take another bite of the food, ignoring the pangs in your stomach, when Octavia, as if she can read your thoughts, exasperates, “I’m stuffed.” The clinking sound of forks and knives being dropped on ceramic plates is the validation that she needed, before she pushed on, “Sleep time. Raven, you’re coming with me.” And catching Raven’s silent protest, Octavia gestures, with a hurried glance, at you and Lexa, ushering a response, “Of course. You can’t fall asleep without me. Sorry girls, responsibility beckons.”

 

And just like that, you were alone.

 

“Would you care for a walk”, you wonder, while gazing at her face, illuminated by the flicker of the candles. “Yes”, is all she offers back.

 

-

 

Reaching the narrow strip of asphalt, you catch her hand with yours. At first it begins with the mellow brush of fingers, a reserved fondness hovering between the fingertips. Gaining momentum, it results in grasping palms, trapping the feeling of euphoria and adoration in its creases and wrinkles. “This is lovely”, she murmurs under her breath.

 

You reach a wide field of tall, tall grass. Hands hooked, you tug at her without letting go, and guide the way without direction. You walk away from the streetlights and the roads, until you are surrounded by the night above and below. You lay down, with her following your motion and placing herself next to you. Your eyes avert towards the sky and, suddenly, you are at home. You are allowed to feel. You squeeze Lexa’s hand as tears begin to brim, and fearing your lack of strength to hold them back, you release a hollow yell, a poignant reminder of your ongoing grief. “Clarke”, comforting words searching for you. When her eyes catch yours, she continues, serious and worried all at once, “ _Apple_ ”. A scarce smile hides in the corners of her lips, once she recognizes that yours has turned into a heartfelt smile, at the memory of a shared lifetime under an oak tree. “That doesn’t work anymore”, you say. “What does”, she wonders. You pause, “Before, it was thinking of you. Now, it’s being with you.”

 

Her lips part into a need to say something, but the loud rattle of your heart pushes you to your feet, before she has an opportunity to respond. “No”, she finally speaks, grabbing you by the arm as she steps in your path, hindering you from leaving. “Clarke, I will give you all the pieces of me, if it means that they can soothe you and heal you.”  _This is the moment_.

 

You step closer, compressing the air between you. Your eyes close and you move slowly, wanting to savor the moment of when your lips meet hers. A warm hand trails its way up your arm, leaving its fingerprints along the way, until it lays idle on the slant of your neck, having found its contentment. And when you kiss, it is delightful, as if the ground has met the sky. The ground gives life; a blossoming breath that is released into yours, temperate and soft, finding its way into the creases of your lips, mending each fracture, tender and gentle. The sky; trickling affection on the ridges it touches, as if she is your sustenance, a saccharine nourishment essential to your existence. “You are wonderful”, you utter.

 

When you get home, you follow her to her room, remaining still in the doorway. You bring her hand to your lips, open her palm and gratefully kiss everything that she has given you. “Goodnight”, you whisper. “Goodnight, Clarke”, she whispers back.

 

-

 

When you wake up in the morning, you make your way to your mother’s room. Knocking once, you open the door. Lying on the bed, shallow breath and painful grunts, the pink scarf discarded on the floor and beads of sweat coating her skin. “Mom”, you utter distressed, “what can I do?” She barely opens her eyes and releases a sharp exhale with the words, “Help me to the bathroom”.

 

You stand distraught as she attempts to get on her feet, observing her movement, each more strenuous than the previous. Lifting her by the arm, you slide your hand around her waist and talk yourself out of the attempt to hoist her up and carry her. Small steps, tiredly, you make it inside the restroom, as you sit down with her on the floor. “Can you manage on your own”, you ask worried, unwilling to leave her side. “I’ll be fine” she says, before adding, “But I won’t lock the door, in case of anything.” Reluctant, you tread into the hallway, closing the door behind you. You count the seconds: _one, two, three, four, five,_ and when you feel as though it has taken too long, the door finally opens and your mother exists with a weak smile covering her lips.

 

You walk down the stairs, her pointing to her favorite spot on the couch, as you guide her step and gently place her down. Now that her ability to execute certain routines has been depleted, she adored sitting next to the living room window, being able to gaze at the flowers blooming in her garden. “Clarke”, she states pensively, “sit next to me.” You walk over and gently lean on her figure, “Are you in pain?” The ensuing pause constricts your breathing, as the anticipation battles to come croaking out of your throat as a heavy sob. “It feels”, her voice beginning to tremble, “like my bones and my flesh are barely hanging on to the nerve endings.” _Oh, mom_. She buries her head in the locks of your hair, washing them down with jagged cries. “I’m sorry, Clarke”, the words stifled, “I’m sorry for being forced to leave you.” Silence. “I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I didn’t have to die.”

 

You are about to disintegrate. _I wish I could take all of your pain. I wish I could, at least, carry half of it. Then I’d be able to hold you by the hand as we leave all of this together._

-

 

You open Lexa’s door without knocking. She is sitting on the edge of the bed, with her hands resignedly resting in her lap, as worry obscures her facial features, “Clarke. I heard. I did not know what to do, so I waited for you.” A whimper wheezes through your teeth, prompting Lexa to rush to your side, catching you and collapsing with you. You grab the collar of her shirt, knuckles whitening from the hold, submerging your head in the warmth of her neck and allowing yourself to weep. You weep for yesterday, you weep for today and you weep for tomorrow. Lexa envelopes her body around you, whispering, “I wish I could carry this, so you do not have to.” “I can’t go back now that she needs me”, you are able to stutter out. With no hesitation, Lexa speaks, “If you want me to, I would like to stay.” You grab her, the hold being raw and vulnerable, as she rests her cheek on your head and murmurs, “Anytime, my Clarke.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to explain a portacath: it is a small device (a port, really), installed below the skin, usually right below the clavicle. Considering that people who receive, for example, chemo therapy have to deal with a lot of needles, this device makes it easier. It saves your arms and veins from constant needle use.
> 
> Apart from that, I hope you do not hate me. And that this chapter hopefully made you feel something. The next chapter will not take as long, considering that my schedule has shed some weight (meaning, I am not taking as many shifts).
> 
> I hope you are all having a pleasant day.


	6. Chapter 6

The days passed with such swiftness, it became only a matter of time before your friends were forced to resume and return to their own lives. This was not necessarily on their own accord, but rather by your incessant use of the phrases, “I’m okay”, “I’ll be fine” and “I can’t keep you here forever”. You were relentless and part of you wondered why that was so, because when it came to Lexa, you easily gave in. And with that said, she did stay.

 

Lexa was peaceful. Lexa was soothing. Lexa was love. Lexa was all of these things; an unchanging humility yesterday, today and tomorrow.

On the days that you had to pick up your mother from the floor, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On the days when your mother would calmly say, “I’m happy the night is over and I survived to see another day”, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On days when you would wake in the middle of the night to the sound of shuffling, only to find your mother sitting reconciled at the kitchen table, stating, “I don’t know what to do with myself”, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On days when your mother’s sobs would shiv through your chest, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On days when your mother was incapable of recognizing who you are, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On days when your mother stopped eating, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On days where you had to live at the hospital, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On days when your mother begged you to not let her die in pain, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On the night your mother stopped breathing, you were grateful that Lexa was there. On the day of the funeral, you craved solitude, but you were still grateful that Lexa was there.

Lexa was peaceful. Lexa was soothing. Lexa was love. Lexa was all of these things; an unchanging humility yesterday, today and tomorrow.

 

-

 

Suddenly, being required to adjust to the normalcy of life, proved difficult. On one hand, you had done what was expected of you- returned and taken up your college experience, as if there never was a discontinuity to that part of your existence. On the other, you had begun feeling bitter, harsh and hostile. You would try to remind yourself of those quiet moments you shared with your mother, when she would kiss your forehead and tell you, “Clarke, when all of this is said and done, you will go through guilt. You’ll think of things you could have said and done. This is normal. But, I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t. When those thoughts find their way to you, remember this: I am _so_ proud of you. You have done everything you could have and more. I couldn’t be more grateful and more _proud_.”

 

Despite this, you had one regurgitating thought. It would slither its way in the night; charting its way through your covers, and just when sleep was easy to find, it would strike. It begins by you remembering the sound of wrapping paper. You opened your eyes, heavy from unrequited sleep, as your gaze searched for the source of the sound. There, by the kitchen table, in the dead of the night, sat your mother; slightly slumped over, with fingers holding firmly to the cookie she had unwrapped. “Mom?”, you had asked, unsure and curious. “I don’t know what to do with myself”, she softly spoke back. You should have gotten up. But you fucking fell asleep.

 

Then; you thought nothing of it. Now; you were acutely aware of her fears- her fears of the night, her relief during the brewing of another day. _I fell asleep_. You weep and you wish that you were never able to sleep again.

 

And truthfully, you never do. Instead you choose to roam the streets- wanting to find repose, yet finding yourself undeserving of it. You have also stopped looking at the sky and searching for your home away from home; brown curls and garnet eyes. Yet, sometimes, you would find yourself outside of her window. And you would sit on the curb; on the threshold between love and remorse, always choosing the latter.

 

-

 

“You can’t push us away”, Raven mutters through the closed door. You release a groan- part genuine fatigue, but mostly irritation at the sound of yet another lecture. “Clarke”, she continues in the same tone, “I swear, if you don’t open this fucking door, I’m going to break it down”. _No_. “You’re acting like a child.” _Please, leave me alone_. “Please, let me in.” She releases a breath that you immediately recognize as concern, before she shuffles and walks away, footsteps going quieter and quieter.

 

You do the one thing you hate: fall back asleep.

 

-

 

If you were allowed to, this is the way you would continue to carry out your days: sleeping. Otherwise, either the image of your mother or Lexa, would begin to seep in. _Lexa_. Lexa had remained resilient, despite your persevering silence. “She deserves better than me”, you would audibly say to the ceiling, as if hearing yourself utter those words would somehow excuse your behavior. Unanswered text messages, unanswered calls, unanswered knocks on your door, unanswered pleadings. But she would always come back. And somewhere inside, you already felt the sorrow for when she would not.

 

“Clarke”, Raven voices, “could you open the door for a second? I have something for you.” When your contemplation results in a little too long of a silence, she speaks again, this time more exasperated than before, “Before you even _think_ of leaving me hanging here, this isn’t something that I can take if you reject it. And it isn’t something I can throw away.” A pause. “I _know_ this is something you don’t want to miss out on. Please, jerkface?”

 

You shuffle out of bed; bare feet hitting the wooden floor. You grab the door handle, unintentionally swinging the door harder than you had intended, “What?”. _Clarke, you’re being such a fucking, petulant child_. “It’s fine that you’re not letting any of us in, but she deserves to be let in”, Raven states firmly. _Lexa, Lexa, Lexa, Lexa_ \- her name, each time, soothing the anger; mending broken strings in the alcove of your chest and filling it with reverence. You close your eyes and drop your head, as she passes you by. Once you close the door, she stops. You search your way to your bed, moving as delicately as possible through the stillness that has occupied the room. Lexa sits in front of you, on the bedroom floor- legs crossed and hands resting in her lap.

 

She sighs. “Tell me what to do”, she murmurs into the walls. When you say nothing, she speaks again, this time even softer, “I am at a loss. I do not know what to do anymore.” You lift your head and allow your eyes to find hers, and instantly the pleasant reminder of a familiar thought knocks against your temples: Lexa is love. You clench your jaw, preventing a mournful whimper to escape your mouth, yet allowing it to push you off the bed and crawl to her side. “I’m _so_ sorry”, you whisper- it traveling with the motion of your hand, as you rest it on top of hers. She leans in to the touch, lifting her gaze and _wow_. You feel as though you have leapt into green nebulas: creation and chaos.

 

“I have no excuse, even though I’ve given myself plenty”, you continue. You push your hand towards your chest, once the grumble inside becomes too unbearable, threatening to give you away, “I don’t like myself, right now. I know you’d care for me either way, but that’s unfair to you. I need time. I don’t want you to wait.” You bite your lip, barely releasing the next few words, “I can’t love right now.” Ultimately, a sorrowful gasp escapes your mouth at the sight of Lexa’s understanding dip of the head. Not looking at you, she rises to her feet and, once reaching the doorway, stops, “Until you are ready, I will love for the both of us.”

 

When she is gone, you allow yourself to weep for today.

 

-

 

“You finally grace us with your presence, princess”, Finn says as you enter the lecture hall and find your seat next to him. A small smile slips through your mouth, but no words come out. “It’s good to see you”, he adds before turning his attention to the empty podium. Students are filling up the room, and you catch your eyes wandering from head to head, trying to catch the ridge of familiar, brown tresses.

 

“You think Chouette still hates me”, you utter in a blunt attempt at distracting yourself. A smirk curls Finn’s lips, as he playfully states, “Yes. Everyone, except me. But that’s simply because I’m all kinds of wonderful.” “Still a jackass”, you reply and add, “At least that’s something that will never change”. He releases a chuckle, which slowly fades into the words, “You’re not speaking to each other or something?” You meet his eyes, your brow furrowed in confusion, until he gestures with his head towards the doorway.

 

Quickly, yet you feel not quick enough, you whip your head and catch the brief glimpse of surprise on Lexa’s face. Feeling elated to see her, your arm goes into a graceless wave, before falling on the desk, once she offers you a haste nod and resumes her usual spot in the front of the class. You twirl the idea in your head, not putting it into words, until Finn opens his mouth and responds to your unspoken thought, “Yeah, I think you should go down there.” You gather your things in a much disheveled manner, prop yourself on your feet and offer Finn an appreciative nod for his encouragement, before walking down the steps.

 

“Is this seat taken?”, you ask once you are standing next to her. Her head jolts at the sound of your voice, and once they settle on your face, she gently pulls out the chair and utters, “I am happy you are out of bed, Clarke.” _Klark_. You always loved the way she said your name; the way the consonants and vowels wrapped around her tongue. And then you begin to realize that you have been hearing less and less of it, and perhaps that, at some point in time, it would stop altogether.

 

-

 

The next passing weeks melt into a single, incoherent jumble- and when the unanswered text messages and phone calls stop, it becomes a remarkable chaos, with no sense of direction or contentment. If you did not know any better, you would think that this is exactly what you asked for.

 

You were strong; and it was not the need to be strong alone that made you make the decisions that you did. It was the fact that your pain was yours- and as such, the burden of it was meant for you. In your eyes, it would not have been just to share the weight of grief.

 

You coveted Lexa’s understanding. You hoped that once this realization settled in, she would offer you more than a mere nod when your paths would cross in class, the library or the school hallway. You wanted her to know that you take it back.

 

And when the night begins to linger in your room, this is all you can think about.

 

You leave the apartment building- roaming- permitting your feet to carry you wherever they desire. Slowly, the once unfamiliar streets become familiar, as you understand that irrespective of the strength of your head, your heart would always carry you home. You follow the recognizable bend of the road, striding through grass and hills, until reaching the oak tree, where you once sat many lifetimes ago. The memory of the moment allows for a few tears to search their way to the edge of your lips, where they evoke the nostalgia of the way she would smile and utter, “Clarke, _apple_.” The remembrance buries its talons in the space between your ribs, making each breath tenderer than the previous. You hear your mother’s words, “You too are allowed to pursue what you want and need. Even in times of hardship.”

 

A fire is kindled. You rise and with a resolute step make your way to her. Your pace is quick- in part because changing your mind was not optional and in part because you could not get there fast enough. Reaching her apartment building, you swing the door open and cover the set of stairs in matter of seconds.

 

You stand in front of her door. You knock. At first, too hesitant. Then, too soft. Third, too strong.

 

You release a compressed breath that rattles between the walls of your lips and, as it escapes, it takes the words with it. But the door opens and Costia’s eyes trace your face. There is no confusion- her gaze is tender and understanding, as she steps to the side and gestures for you to enter. Standing in the hallway you feel nervous, almost giddy, as Costia grabs you by the arm and leads you to Lexa’s door. At the same time as she slowly cracks the door open, she lightly knocks on it. “You have a visitor”, she whispers, before turning to you and saying, “Go in. And good luck.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated whether or not to develop Abby's last moments- more than I did. Ultimately, I decided against it. And I hope you guys are ok with that, as well. I think it's good the way it is. (I actually did write it, but ended up deleting it).
> 
> Also, yes (I know I've said this before), I'll get the next chapter out sooner. This is the last week with a shitty work schedule, so after that I'll be able to write a lot more. Which also means longer chapters (I know the last two have been short).
> 
> I'll make it all better guys! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It couldn’t get any better than that”, the words unabashedly squeeze out through your lips.
> 
> Your eyes meet one more time, and you could swear that you have leapt into the cosmos. What you do not know is that Lexa could swear the same thing herself.

Your step is silent, as you timorously follow the trail of light left behind by the streetlights crossing the distance between the window and her. Some of them, though, had remained in the strands of her hair- illuminated just enough for you to remember their touch, as they spilled down your pillow.

You felt strangely out of place when a husky voice broke the silence, “Clarke? Is everything alright?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, positioned herself on the edge of the bed and allowed for the silence to once again fill the room. She was going to wait until you were ready.

You felt embarrassed. After all, you were standing in her room, in the middle of the night, while all the words that you needed to say, escaped you. You exhale, but there is no relief. “I came here to apologize”, you finally say.

Yet, this is not entirely the truth. This is not why you came here.

You hold your lip captive between your teeth, unsure of what to say next. Or rather- not _what_ , but _how_. “Thank you for pulling me out of the dirt, when I felt like nothing more than to bury myself in it. And- forgive me for the way that I repaid you.” Confronted, once again, with silence, you knot your fingers together and bite the inside of your cheek, resistant on giving up.

All the while, you can feel it brewing. Like a rock swishing around in the pit of your stomach- the reason you were here. There, in the alcove of your chest, it was beginning to drum louder and louder. And even though you did not deserve to say the words, it did not change the fact that you needed to, “Lexa, can we go back?”

“No.” Short. Painful.

The muscles in her jaw tighten, while she pushes herself onto her feet. She takes a rigid stance: hands wrapped behind her back and head straight, as she wipes herself of all emotion. If you did not know her better, you would believe that she genuinely meant it. “Life is messy and I cannot worry each time it does, that you will cope with it by walking away.”

You take a shaky breath.

“I am not in the business of reading your mind, Clarke.”

You feel like you are unraveling. Bone by bone, flesh by flesh. But what is more, you feel that you have earned it.

Knowing that you have lost, you stand in front of her, taking in each bend, curve and fall of her face. You want to remember it all, before your time is up. “I know, Lexa”, you utter barely above a whisper, “I take it all back.”

Though, it was a little too late.

You turn on your heal and bridge the gap between yourself and the door. You turn the knob, when a soft voice reaches you, “I am sorry if it came across as though I was blaming you for how you chose to deal with your mother’s passing.” You do not move. “There is no right or wrong way to cope with such an unimaginable pain.” She barely exhales. “I just really, _really_ wish you would stop walking away from me, Clarke.”

Your throat is dry and the breath you swallow feels jagged.

“This time I’m not walking away, Lexa”, you reply, “I’m giving you the time that you need to forgive me.” You clench your teeth together, before uttering, “I will wait.” The _for you_ part goes unsaid.

And as you leave the apartment complex, you think to yourself: _Apple, Clarke. Apple._

-

 

As time went by, certain aches grew smaller, while others grew stronger. You did your best at leaving them to rest in your covers, but at times, they would tiptoe behind you and hide in places you would least expect them. Sometimes they hid in a song, sometimes they hid under the swaying branches of a sunlit oak tree and other times, they hid in the sky.

You were rendered to memories of foaming laughter, gentle hands and warm lips.

Determinedly, Raven speaks and interjects your thoughts, “So, that’s a yes? We’re going?”, Usually, you admired her unrelenting spirit. However, today, was not one of those occasions. You were exhausted, which became apparent once you released the sigh that had been filling your mouth; irritated and yielding.

“Clarke. We were all invited and so we are all going”, she pronounces each word meticulously, making sure that you understand that her intent on bringing you with her is unrelenting. “How do you expect to fix shit by avoiding it?”

 _Fine,_ you think to yourself, as you drag your feet to your room and say over the shoulder, “Let me change and then we can go.”

 

-

 

Raven paces impatiently on the sidewalk, muttering under her breath. The occasional, “Where is she”, would spill from her mouth, and bring life to the still of the night.

It was quiet, apart from the tapper of anxious feet. That you were growing bored, would be another way of putting it.

“She’s not even late. We said that dinner starts at 7pm and that we would meet at 6:45pm. It’s not her fault that you decided to be early in being early.”

Raven whips her head towards you and opens her mouth for – you are sure – a sarcastic remark, but luckily Octavia’s figure appears under the streetlights, and all you can think to yourself is: _Thank the universe_.

“Shall we”, you gesture towards the girls, as you open the door and await for them to enter. Octavia stops briefly in the doorway and, not looking at you, says, “What’s important is that you’re here. You’re taking control as much as you’re allowed. The rest you can’t worry about.”

You wondered why you were either black or white. With you, there was not greyscale. You wondered this, because here you were again: the wooden door on the second floor. You had previously stated how you enjoyed repetitiveness and found consolation in it, but now that you kept finding your feet rooted in front of apartment 4, you were beginning to come to terms with the fact that repetitiveness was something you enjoyed only when it benefited your safety. _Safety_ being used as a loose term and actually meaning withdrawal.

You thought about how each time had been different, but that you had never imagined a life where you had successfully hurt and damaged something that had just begun to bloom.

But, here you were. Doing something about it.

Costia opens the door. Her smile finds you before her eyes do, and you immediately pull her into your arms. You truly adore her.

“I’m so happy you guys came”, muffled words vibrate against the slope of your shoulder, as she leaves one sturdy arm on yours and uses the other to widen the hug by including Raven and Octavia in it. “And in case it all goes to shit”, she adds with a smirk, “I have a stash of liquor that we can put to good use.”

The breath you inhale, you do not release. You are unsure of how long you can hold it, but it does propel you forward and it does fill you with courage.

 

-

 

When you enter the living room, you are met with unfamiliar faces. Or rather, somewhat unfamiliar faces, because you were confident to a certain degree that you had seen them on a photo or two.

“Girls”, Costia turns her attention from you to the person in front, “This is Anya.” She appeared stoic. In fact, it was a vague reminder of how Lexa usually carried herself.

There was no denying the fact that you felt slightly intimidated, but once you stretched out your hand, she grabbed it without hesitation and uttered, “You’re Clarke, I’m assuming.”

_Oh, good. This bodes well._

“I am. Don’t believe everything you’ve heard about me”, you proclaim and release a chuckle that was transparently hollow and nervous.

“I do, though”, she replies quickly, while maintaining an indifferent expression in her eyes.

“Yikes”, Raven leans into you and whispers in your ear. Her words are swift and barely audible; unnoticeable to anyone else, but you. “We’ve barely started and you’re already on the shit list.”

You were hoping it was not setting a precedent for the rest of the evening.

“And this handsome guy”, Costia continues without putting any emphasis on Anya’s exchange of words, “Is Lincoln.”

Despite his build, he was anything but daunting. He offers you a smile that only seems to grow once his eyes land on Octavia.

Behind you, the stirring of cutlery and ceramics catches your attention. You slowly follow the sound, until your eyes find its source. You felt warm, you felt blissful and you felt at home. Taking in her image- the untamed hair that, as though it has a consciousness of its own, spills and retracts over her shoulder; the way her jaw sets, and the way her eyes give her away with their swirling spark of tenderness that obscures the green.

She actively avoids your eyes, as she utters, “And I hope I do not have to introduce myself.” The room fills with laughter, as you can only release a minute gasp that is a shell of a feeling: _How I have missed you_.

“You”, Raven’s voice lingers, while her step quickens towards Lexa, “It’s been too long.” Her arms encircle Lexa’s back, who reciprocates the brief embrace once the surprise had worn off. “Far too long, Ray.”

She leans on the kitchen counter, as her gaze finds yours. “Hi.” Her voice is soft, as though if it were any louder, it would somehow scare you away.

“Hi”, you reply back.

 

-

 

As you make your way towards the dining table, you attempt to make sure that you are seated to at least one of your friends. You end being wedged between Raven and Costia, since Octavia had managed to unnoticeably sneak her way next to Lincoln.

_Could you be more obvious, O?_

Sitting next to them and across from you were Anya and Lexa.

 _My Lexa._ You push the thought away as soon as it makes it presence known. She was not _yours_.

Instead you observed the illustrious dynamic between the two girls. You found it particularly interesting how Anya seemed unmoved, unless she was interacting with Lexa. Only then did the smallest flashes of light flicker behind her eyes, which she – undoubtedly – tried to hide from curious glances.

You rest your head on your knuckles, and use the other hand to bring the glass of wine to your lips. You angle your head and allow the liquid to remove the dryness in your throat and replace it with its warmth. From the corner of your eye, you observe Raven lean towards you and inconspicuously whisper, “Costia thinks she has a stash? I’m the girl with the stash. It’s in the car. Just give me a sign and we’ll go. We’ll have to walk home though, but it’d be worth that homemade moonshine.”

A chuckle pushes through your lips and finds its way to your eyes. You instinctively lift your hand and nonchalantly place it on Raven’s cheek, “You know me better than I know myself.”

And when you focus your attention back to the chatter of the table, you barely catch the movement of Lexa’s head as she drags her gaze away from yours.

“So, Clarke?”, Lincoln speaks, “What do you go to school for?”

“Oh, I do a little bit of everything”, you smile and continue, “But primarily I’m studying to become a doctor.” You make a pause as you chew on the remainder of the words held in your mouth. You briefly consider if they would constitute as oversharing, but the alcohol in your stomach convinces you otherwise, “My dad passed away in a car accident when I was younger. Which is a big part as to why I want to go into medicine. And my mom is-“, you stop briefly enough to correct yourself, “ _was_ a doctor. Following in her footsteps makes me feel closer to her.”

“A healer in our midst”, he responds carefully, “very admirable.”

You can only offer him a nod, because you were aware that if you spoke, your voice would reveal with what difficulty you talk of losses. The truth was that you felt abandoned and that, for all your attempts, the feeling never went away.

 _You are lying_. The feeling did go away when you drank yourself full of brown curls, fluttering eyelashes and the taste of morning coffee from warm lips. But, the memory was too painful because it was just that: a memory.

“You are strong, Clarke”. The voice is soft. It hums its way to you- a chorus of clandestine tones that vibrate with immeasurable loveliness in your ears. Her faint smile is reassuring, and it fills you with such reverence that you bow your head in hopes of being able to anchor yourself in this moment. If only for a little while longer.

But it was almost like a magic trick- when your eyes cautiously scout their way back to hers, the tenderness was gone and something else, more impassive, had taken its place. And you hated it. You loathed her ability to shroud any feeling, while you were left exposing them so clearly.

Loathed is a strong word because, truthfully, there was nothing you loathed about her.

 

-

 

“But I have already chosen the movie, guys”, Anya exclaims victoriously, as she slumps down in the couch. Everyone mimics her movement and allow the numerous pillows and blankets to envelope them as they did so. You, however, take the moment to arch your brow at Raven who instantly interprets the signal and cries out a triumphant, “Yes!” The loudness of her voice brings silence to the room, as the eager chatter stops and unwanted attention is directed at you. “We have some high quality stuff in the car that we’d be more than happy to share”, you manage to nervously stutter out.

Raven moves to stand in front of you, protectively ushering you to shift behind her, “High quality stuff as in worth drinking out of a chalice!”

The positive outpouring that followed made you rush to the door- not so much for your own eagerness as it was for theirs. However, just when you are about to open the front door, Raven goes and says this: “I have to go to the bathroom. It’s in the trunk. I’m sure Lexa will help you. Right, Lex?”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were afraid that if you did, your eyes would snap and remain in the back of your head.

_I, uh, have to, uh, go to the, uh, bathroom. Good job, Ray. Real discrete._

But then you hear it, “I will go with you, Clarke.”

 

-

 

The ensuing silence is only broken by the echo of footsteps, resonating against the concrete walls of the building. Side by side, shoulder to shoulder- you conquer each staircase without uttering a word. And even though you wanted to say so much, you bit your tongue and attempted to quench the feeling that was beginning to bloom once more now that you were in her presence again.

Once you were outside, you inhaled sharply, feeling as though there was finally enough oxygen for you to take. You point to the car, and upon approach, offer her a nervous smile as you open the trunk. You were acutely aware that her presence made you feel exposed, and you were trying, with increasing difficulty, to act as though everything was just fine.

But everything was not just fine.

You bury your hands in the back of the car, rummaging without finding anything. Exasperation was beginning to settle in, and once annoyance broke free from the talons of your chest, you spoke rapidly to yourself, “Where is it? You know, this is so typical Raven! _It’s in the trunk, Clarke_. Yeah, where in the fucking trunk did she fucking hide it? Is there a secret phrase?” You pause briefly, taking a step back and stretching out your palm towards the car, as you utter sarcastically, “Speak friend and enter, right? _Mellon!_ ” Resigned, you drop your hands on your hips and release a frustrated sigh.

But then you hear it. The loveliest of sounds: Lexa’s laughter. It is warm when it finds its way to you and remarkably soothing. Knowing that to you it had become a rare commodity, you drink yourself full of it; you revel in it. And you always find yourself needing more.

Instinctively- because she had been yours- you stretch out your hand wanting to brush away the curls lingering on the ridges of her cheekbones. Then you remember. _It’s not your place anymore, Clarke._ You retract your hand, feeling embarrassed.

You nervously run your fingers through your hair, and as you do, you face the trunk of the car once again and commence the search anew. You were growing impatient and about to give up, when the sudden clinking of glass brushes against your fingers. “Found them!”

Lexa’s mouth opens, but whatever she intended to say, she swallows hard and in its stead utters, “Good. Let us leave.”

 

-

 

You drink, but you make sure that you do not drink too much. You were aware that, for now, the liquor was making you feel better; but you were also aware that if you had too much, it would end up bouldering through your chest and opening doors you wanted to remain closed.

Another unwanted effect of the alcohol was the fact that you were beginning to tire. You attempted to resist its effect, especially since your friends were having, what seemed, the time of their life: Octavia was enjoying Lincoln’s company, Raven was engrossed in the movie along with Costia, and Lexa and Anya were busy whispering in between the more tedious scenes.

Discretely, yet not discretely at all, you would allow your gaze to skip over Anya’s stiff figure, and land on Lexa’s. Each time, you would feel a sense of discomfort that would clench harder around your ribs, because it was still unfathomable that you were so close to her, without being allowed to hold her, or kiss her, or speak freely to her.

 _Sheesh_. The thought simmered in your mouth; a mixture between distress, tiredness and need; all of it culminating in the desire to leave.

“You good there, Griffin”, Anya’s stern voice lingers in your ear, as you whip your head towards the girl, confused. “You seem pensive.”

Your eyes graze at Anya’s high risen cheekbones and trail over them to find the green meadows in Lexa’s. You linger for the briefest of moments, almost as if you were not doing it at all, before you turn your attention back to Anya, “No, I’m fine. Just a little warm from the liquor.” Your head dips and your eyes fall.

Anya does not say anything.

Neither does Lexa.

But Costia hears your ache and rests her hand on your knee in comfort.

 

 -

 

The night was alive. The small strip of concrete outside of the bar was brewing with noise. You could barely distinguish words from the high- and low pitched chords resonating from the back of mouths, fueled by smoke and beer. You swallowed their intonations, and in each tasting the laughter, soberness, drunkenness, disappointment, love, like, sadness, and celebration. Each reason, no matter how different it was, being a unifying force as to why you all found yourselves in the same place on a Saturday evening.

Grabbing you by the shoulders, Raven exclaims, “I. Am. So. Excited!” And she was. Raven was elated for two varying reasons. One, being the fact that she had managed to take her friend for a night out without much convincing; which was a first in a long time. Second, being the fact that your antics during these types of outings were usually driven by copious amounts of alcohol.

She pulls you by the hem of your sleeve, muttering to herself, “They’re here somewhere.” You follow her through the throngs of people, your step heavy and clumsy, as you gracelessly bump into a shoulder here or an elbow there. But when your eyes rest on his face, you cannot help the smile that breaks into the creases of your lips, “Over there!”

Your stride is quick, as you run into his arms and allow them to envelope you. “Welcome home”, you say with lingering nostalgia and care in your voice. You had missed your friend. “Finally”, Bellamy replies back.

Yes, Bellamy was your closest of friends. Just as much as you had shared a childhood with Octavia, you did so as well with her older brother Bellamy. Together, the three of you, had experienced love, anger, laughter, loss. And having him return at such a pivotal moment in your life, felt reassuring. He was the friend that gave you the strength when you felt as though you had none. He was the friend that made sure you knew that you were never alone.

When you take your seat, Octavia gestures towards the drinks on the table, declaring, “This warrants a toast, my lovelies.” She grabs the bottle closest to her, lifting it up and centering it above the table, “To friendships. To surviving. Together.” And when you tilt your head and allow the rush of alcohol to pour down your throat, you feel grateful and happier than you have felt in a while.

 

-

 

Bellamy’s laughter is loud, as he barely manages to push the words out, “No, guys. No one yet.” You shake your head in disbelief, but playfully utter, while motioning towards Octavia, “No wonder. Whoever you find has to pass that one’s test of loyalty.” Octavia arches a brow, and offers you a wink, as though she is saying, “ _If you have done nothing wrong, then you have nothing to hide.”_

Raven returns while, with poise, managing to balance several drinks in her hands. She sets them down on the table, her gaze focusing on a point behind you. The expression on her face is proving difficult to read; was it confusion, was it concern, or was it something in between? Either way, she lifts her hand and offers a wave, mumbling below her breath, “We should probably go over there and say hi.” You turn your head, following the path of her eyes, until it leads you to familiar grounds; Anya, Costia, Lincoln and Lexa.

Your smile is genuine when it finds its way to your lips, mouthing, “Hi.” And then you turn your attention to Raven, and state assuredly, “We can do that later. Let _us_ have some fun for now.”

“I second that”, Bellamy replies and clinks his glass with yours.

 

-

 

The music was loud and you felt warmer. But it would be a lie to state that you did not, occasionally, look Lexa’s way.

 _Occasionally_ being a term, located somewhere between _often_ and _not enough._

You blamed it on the liquor, which you found to be a solid excuse, in case someone were to notice you.

“Wow”, Octavia blurts out, “Who the fuck is _that_?” The entire table directs its attention at the figure passing by. Whoever she is, she is beautiful. Not in an arrogant or conceited way, yet in the way that she carries herself: confident and unwavering. Her blonde strands of hair remain untamed as she determinedly makes her way through the crowd, all the while a smile, that you would describe as illustrious, envelopes her mouth. She captivates the entire room.

Raven states what you were all thinking, “She is h-h-h-hot!”. And as if your jaw could not drop any lower, or your eyes get any wider, the girl walks over to the table in front of you and seats herself between Anya and Lexa.

Bellamy, oblivious as always, utters through a smirk, “I need to meet her. We should go over there.”

“Clarke”, Raven voices her concern, “You good?” You were not quite certain _how_ you felt or _what_ you felt, but nonetheless, you turned your attention to Raven and allowed a shallow smile to spill out. You felt uncertain and it was not because of the girl that was, now, succeeding at making Lexa laugh. You felt uncertain because of fear: the fear that there perhaps was a finality to your hopes of ever reuniting the ground with the sky. The fear of _almost_. Almost home. Almost there, but not quite. Almost, maybe. Almost, maybe not.

“I’m fine, guys”, you reply.

“Don’t worry about what you can’t control”, Octavia adds with a firm nod of her head.

 

-

 

“Are you coming, or what?”, Costia’s voice echoing behind you, as her hand finds its way to your shoulder.

“Cos”, Raven says, “Who is that? And can I marry her?”

Costia huffs out a chuckle, “A friend of Anya’s. Her name is Raleigh.”

 _Raleigh_ , you swish the syllables in your mouth, before rising to your feet and grappling Costia’s arm, “Lead the way.”

Reaching the table, you find your seat opposite of Lexa, offering her an insecure smile. You swallow hard, and extend your arm across the table, “Hello, I’m Clarke.” The girl reciprocates with a wide smile, before she grabs your hand firmly and speaks, “Hi, Clarke! I’m Raleigh. Really nice to finally meet you.”

 _Well, that’s a little comforting_.

For the remainder of the evening, you tried to avoid wondering if things were ever going to be the same. You had accepted that your care for her was unbounded, which in turn meant that you would embrace in whichever way she chose to exist in your life.

“My turn”, you blurt out. “Okay. What did the scientist say, when they found two isotopes of helium?” Silence, as the buildup of suspense rises. “He he”, you reply with a serious expression on your face.

The table breaks out in laughter, but not the kind that you expected. “That was so bad”, can be heard lightheartedly directed at you. You cannot withhold the chuckle that bubbles from your throat and transforms into a booming laughter, foaming at your mouth. “Hey! You’re laughing at your own joke. You have to take a shot!”

But across the table, a low murmuring chuckle can be heard. Lexa allows it to grow, as she gazes at you with a tender spark behind her eyes. She lifts her glass and adds, “It would appear as though you and I will be drinking together.”

“It couldn’t get any better than that”, the words unabashedly squeeze out through your lips.

Your eyes meet one more time, and you could swear that you have leapt into the cosmos. What you do not know is that Lexa could swear the same thing herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh's name comes from something referred to as the Rayleigh scattering, which is an explanation as to why the sky is blue. Take what you will from that.
> 
> Also, Bellamy and Clarke are my brotp.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin to row. _Splash_ , the water says, permitting the occasional droplet to fall on your hands. _Splash_ , it soothingly echoes again and does not stop until you reach the middle of the lake and release the oars.  
> It is then that you allow the realization wash over you: her eyes never wavered from yours. And knowing this felt important to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me.

The thought did cross your mind if you were _ever_ going to be a morning person, as the rays broke through your window and- what felt like violently- pulled at your eyelashes, until you were awake.

You felt as though you had crudely swallowed sand, leaving your throat dry and leaving you parched.

You had a vague recollection of stumbling through the front door, with Raven’s arm around you, as she carried you inside. Indistinctively you remember her utter the words _water_ and _Tylenol_ , but apart from that you remembered nothing.

With great difficulty, you lift your head and search the room. For what, you are not sure. Your gaze falls on your bedside table, where a glass of water is resting on it. _Must be the one Raven was referring to_ , you think to yourself. With a slight tremor in your hand, you grab the glass and sloppily gulp down its contents. _Well, that tasted like shit_. And it did. In fact, to you, it tasted putrid and instead of making you feel better, it lodged itself like a rock in the pit of your stomach.

As you release a sigh, you use its force to lift your upper body and turn to sit on the edge of the bed. _Oh, god_ , slips through your mouth. As much as you were inclined to promise yourself that you would never drink again, you knew it was the same empty promise you made each time this situation occurred.

Your gaze falls on your feet, currently burrowed in a discarded fleece blanket. And suddenly you recall. _Fuck! Poor Raven._

Raven had helped you to bed, while you struggled to make the floor your sleeping ground. “Clarke”, you remember her whisper, “You cannot sleep here. Your back will hurt.” When you murmured back a simple _I’m good_ , Raven had gently grabbed your hand and carefully tugged at your arm, patiently uttering, “No, Clarke. Please, come with me.” You followed her. When she instructed you to lay down, you attempted to do so with grace, but having no sense of balance, you had flopped down on the bed instead. “I am taking these off”, she had whispered quietly, untying your shoes and removing them from your feet. You do not recall what you muttered into your pillow, but you did recall her covering you with your comforter and sweetly whispering, “I hope you will be alright for tonight. I will be here if you need me.”

Then, you fell asleep.

With that, you shakily rose to your feet and, since you were unable to make proper steps, you resorted to dragging them behind you. You opened your door, pausing briefly to find your bearings, before continuing on.

“Raven?”, you rasped out.

Quietly, you walk into the living room, finding your friend’s figure fast asleep on the couch. She was curled up with her back towards you, a small blanket barely covering her. _She must be so cold_. She looked small and different, in a way. You approached her, while muttering to yourself, “Why are you sleeping here? You must be freezing.” Softly, you grab her by the shoulder and add, “Rav-“. You do not finish your sentence. You _cannot_ finish your sentence, because you feel misled in the most wonderful of ways. It was not Raven that had helped you. It was Lexa. _Of course it was Lexa_.

You step away briefly, only to return with your comforter. You place it on her, making sure that each inch of her is covered and warm. You slowly lower yourself, so that you are seated on the edge of the couch, and not knowing what to do with your hands, you timidly pull at the hem of the duvet, ensuring that it is covering her shoulders, but not her face. For a brief moment of weakness, you allow your hand to linger. For this, you cannot be blamed, because you were lost in the concept of her; a blooming reverence for this beautiful creature that had somehow become a part of your existence. And you could not be more grateful.

Her deep breathing stops. She angles her head, slowly turning her entire body towards you, as your hand follows her motion; sliding across her shoulder and you retracting it before it reaches her face.

“Good morning, Clarke”, she murmurs trough a timorous smile.

 _Klark_. _There it was again_.

“Good morning, Lexa”, you reply and cannot help the sense of veneration you say it with.

You hold each others gaze, without saying much more. Your breath hitches and when you open your mouth to speak, a warm sigh of butterflies comes out.

“How are you feeling?”, she earnestly wonders.

And all you can say is, “Much, much better.” You pause. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime”, she utters through a faint smile.

 

-

 

You walked through the tall grass with Costia by your side. The sun hung low in the sky; the only sound emanating from the soles of your feet crunching the strands of grass below and the occasional crashing of a wave against the shoreline.

You eagerly dragged her by the sleeve of her shirt, which prompted her to smile mischievously and say, “Take it easy, girl.” Yet, without relenting, you tugged at her just as excitedly, until you reached the rock face. Wanting to get as close to the water as possible, you began hopping from one rock to the other, instructing Costia to follow your step carefully. Content with the spot you had chosen, you take your seat, tap on the empty space next to you and declare, “The waves can’t reach us here.” Cautiously, Costia sits down next to you and utters, “This is gorgeous, Griff.”

It was. It was as if someone had carelessly poured pink watercolor through the white of the clouds, almost completely washing out the blue hue.

“My mom used to take me here”, you say as you brush strands of hair from your face and hook them behind your ear. “I miss her”, your voice falling into silence.

Costia curls her fingers around your wrist- pulling you towards her and tilting her head on your shoulder, “I can’t even begin to imagine.” This sparks a thought. For that brief moment of repose, you wondered why it was so that you felt composed, until someone realized that you were hurting. You wondered why the sob in your mouth grew as soon as someone understood your pain.

And at that, you released it.

Costia’s eyes flick up towards yours and, lacking hesitation, envelopes you into an embrace. You have been wanting to speak true, but have not dared to actually say the words that were now frivolously pushing through the rim of your lips, “I’m an _orphan_.”

That single word had been weighing heavy on you. And although you might not constitute as a child any longer, it did not diminish your feelings in any way.

Costia holds you until you are able to swallow back the syllables that stubbornly want to continue pouring out.

With wet eyes and sticky cheeks, you are surprised when in the midst of the pandemonium, a laughter slips from your mouth. “I’m a mess”, you stutter out.

Costia huffs, “You sure are. But one thing you are _not_ , is alone.” Her hand never leaves the spot around your waist, but her eyes divert away from you and towards the crashing of the sea. She barely blinks when she speaks, “You know, you think too much.” She goes quiet, almost as if sifting through her words, “You can’t always analyze each situation before choosing to confront it. Sometimes, Clarke, you just have to go for it.” She turns her head towards you, now having your full attention, “As my dad used to say: if things get bad, they can only go straight to shit and not even that is the end of the world.”

Her lips purse in anticipation for your response; for your confirmation that you have understood what she was attempting to tell you. A puff of air wheezes out through the roof of your mouth, as the ensuing nod makes you close your eyes and utter, “I understand, Cos. I’ll be patient.”

“You are a fighter, Griff. No matter how shitty things get, you fight. We admire that about you. And she loves that about you.”

 

-

 

A few days had passed since your conversation with Costia; her words never quite leaving you alone, but instead constantly prompting you to accept the fact that sometimes it is alright to listen to the heart, rather than the mind.

Then, your phone rings.

A booming voice echoes through the speaker: “Clarke! Is your ass coming with us to the party, or what?” Despite Raven’s enthusiasm, you had to turn her down, using the cliché excuse of _having other plans_. Except, in your case, it was technically true. Almost.

“Are you sure”, she responds and follows up with, “I brought Costia! And O is here. Finn, too. It’ll be fun! Come on!”

“I’ll make it up to you guys some other time. I promise”, is all you can say.

“Fine”, she says while feigning annoyance, “Then you have fun in whatever boring thing you are doing.”

“Have enough fun for me too”, you reply while opening the door to the building.

 

-

 

It was strange how a simple door could instill considerable amount of nervousness. There was no turning back; you inhale sharply and knock. You were slightly irritated at the fact that you were growing anxious to the point that your mouth was dry and your palms, which were neatly folded into each other behind your back, were clammy.

Yet, when the door opens, you feel something completely different. You feel reckless, careless and weak. You were all of these things for her. But you were also obvious. Because that was the intolerable truth; your feelings were transparent and they tasted bittersweet.

“I was wondering”, you begin, “if you would allow me to take you somewhere?” You feel as though your chest might explode from the short anticipation it takes her to respond, “Where are we going?” You cannot truly describe the softness of the spark that your eyes fall into when you search your way to hers, but it does elicit a simple, nonsensical grin on your lips, “It’s a secret. But, since we have to leave right now, you’re coming as you are.”

“I am wearing my sleeping clothes, Clarke”, she speaks through a faint smile, tugging at her oversized sweatpants and t-shirt.

You swallow and shuffle through the words as they bounce inside your mouth, attempting to choose the one that describes her- in this situation- the best; the word _beautiful_ hits the hardest, but then there is also _lovely_ and _wonderful_ and _magnificent_. Yet, somehow, they all seemed insufficient.

You see her: the chaos and beauty; the strength and weakness.

“You’re fine, Lexa”, you ultimately say, “Let’s go.”

 

-

 

The drive was considerably long.

Recognizing the road signs, you assumed that she understood the direction you were heading in, despite her lack of protesting. In fact, she made herself comfortable; she curved her body against the car door, resting it against the seat and her head against the window.

Speaking was redundant. Her company was more than enough in making you happy. You resented that word- _happy_ \- yet currently, it is the most appropriate way of describing how you are feeling. A sense of ease and familiarity lingered in the car; a sense of home. And as the music played from the speakers, you wished that this moment would extend past the limits of time to never parish.

When you pull into the driveway of your childhood home, it was barely 2 in the morning. “Here we are”, you murmur quietly towards the sleeping figure next to you.

She stretches her arms and fills the space with a yawn, closely followed by a smile, “Here **we** are. Again.” Then she adds, “Stay seated.” She opens the door and you can hear her feet hit the gravel, as she makes her way around the front of the car, opening the driver door and extending her palm out to you, “Shall we?” You grab her hand and allow her warmth to clasp around your fingers.

She always felt inevitable to you; like a memory from a different life- one that you did not mind reliving over and over. She was memorable.

“This way”, you barely manage to usher out of your mouth, gently tugging at her arm. She falls into step with you and then, without warning, unhooks her hand with yours. You expected it, but it did not lessen the pang of distress that flashed briefly between your ribs.

You walk the road; the same, narrow strip of asphalt you had walked months ago. Now was vastly different from then. Then, you had whispered promises into the palm of her hand, kissed their lines and curves and adored the feeling of how their touch would unravel you; string by string. Now, you made promises to no one.

Reaching a woodland area, you turned to face her, while walking backwards, “Almost there”. She shakes her head and responds, “You keep using that word: almost. I am beginning to think that you are not quite acquainted with its definition.” She laughs at the way your eyes widen in surprise, completely unaware how your heart had whispered: _She is so fucking wonderful._

“Relax, Jim Carrey”, you utter playfully and continue through a smirk, “Just follow me, alright?”

 

-

 

It did not take long before you reached a clearing and were met by the quiet humming of the water. “Down this way”, you declare and trace your step alongside the lake’s shoreline. For a moment you seemed lost, as you- with a furrowed brow- searched the coast for _something_. “Aha”, you proclaim excitedly; pulling out the small, wooden boat. With a certain amount of effort, you manage to push it into the lake, gesturing with your hand towards Lexa, “Mademoiselle, your ship awaits you.”

Insecure, she firstly ensures to anchor herself on your shoulder, before taking a step and clumsily falling into her seat. When she shyly rests her hands in her lap and allows a smile to break on her face, you wade further into the water, before getting in yourself.

You begin to row. _Splash_ , the water says, permitting the occasional droplet to fall on your hands. _Splash_ , it soothingly echoes again and does not stop until you reach the middle of the lake and release the oars.

It is then that you allow the realization wash over you: her eyes never wavered from yours. And knowing this felt important to you.

The boat rocked back and forth, like a cradle; the water pushing it gently from side to side. The lake itself looked as if it had swallowed the entirety of the starlit sky, rippling once you caressed its surface with the tip of your finger. There was also the smell of flowers and almonds singing into your mouth; from her to you. She was resting against the side of the boat; one hand nonchalantly embedded in the lake and the other underneath her chin. Her eyes flickered from the horizon, until she found your gaze and held it.

“This is nice”, she whispers.

“My mom used to take me here a lot as a child.” The momentary silence allows you to hear the trees creak under the pressure of the gust; the fluttering of the wind as it ruffles the leaves, freefalling into the grass, only to bounce off and land into your hair. “I don’t come here nearly as often as I should”, you continue, “It’s peaceful.”

When she responds with, “It is”, you recognize indecisiveness in her voice. But then she speaks again and it becomes clear, “Clarke, why did you bring me here?”

“Because”, you begin, “you are _you_.” You exhale, while clamoring to any sensible words. “I don’t really know what to say here without sounding like an idiot. I just wanted us to experience something different. Something _good_ different. That’s it.”

“This certainly is good different, Clarke”, she says softly.

But suddenly, there was a fire inside of you, “It was a mistake allowing all that time to spill between us. That we allowed it to.”

“You needed to heal, Clarke.”

“Recognize it for what it is, Lexa. A big, fucking mistake. Or am I the only one that seems to think that?” When she clenches her jaw, a gnawing feeling of fear begins to eat at your bones, “Am I, Lexa? Am I trying to fix something that isn’t mine to fix anymore?”

“There is something I _need_ to tell you, Clarke.” Her voice sounding regretful; its impact like a brick to your chest.

And just then, your phone rings.

Needing brief calm, you glance at the screen and see Octavia’s name flash on it. “Hello?”, you answer, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It’ll be alright, we are coming home!”

You hang up and catch Lexa’s worried gaze. The words slip from your lips, surreal and bitter, “It’s about Costia and Raven… There was an accident.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have already written the next chapter, so I will not wait too long before pushing it out. 
> 
> Come and talk/yell at me: kraeng.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And if this is what it means to love; then I don’t want it anymore. Not if you aren’t on the receiving end of it.”

Lexa turns off the ignition. The sudden silence weighs heavy on you, and it is only then that you become aware of how completely depleted you feel.

_Nothing good ever happens here_.

Lexa releases a sigh; it sounding vicious in the way it slowly climbs out of her throat and grips the space between you. She gets out of the car and you watch her as she tilts her head towards the sky, with lidded eyes, taking in one, long breath. Deeming it sufficient enough to carry on, she finds herself opening your car door, gently pulling you out by the hand, and guiding you across the parking lot. Her pace is more assertive rather than quick, yet she still ensures that you are able to comfortably follow her. If she happens to notice your faltering step; she is just as swift in slowing down, yet still making sure that she is protectively walking one step ahead.

Whatever is waiting inside, she would rather take the first punch over you.

The reception area. You are lucid enough to see Lexa speak to the man behind the desk, yet their words remain inaudible to you. It was a rather strange feeling; no matter how much you attempted and strained yourself to listen to their conversation, you could not break through the odd trickle of white noise you had found yourself stuck in.

Once again, Lexa tightens the grip around your hand, as you clumsily fall into step behind her.

You reach the elevator. You lean against the cold metal; detesting that its creaking reminds you of your mother. You feel warm hands cup your face and equally warm eyes gazing at you, “It will be alright, Clarke. I am with you the entire way. I will follow.”

And the urge to kiss her overwhelms you. Not because of beauty, or lust, or anything in between, but rather for the simple fact that you- Clarke Griffin- wonder how her chest can contain the enormity of her heart. And at the slight ache of your own, you clear your throat, nod, and shyly allow your hands to slowly pull up and rest on hers.

The elevator doors open. Lexa leads you to the waiting area where, almost out of nowhere, you find yourself cradling Octavia, as she burrows her head into the crook of your neck.

“O, what happened”, you stutter out chopped words somewhere from the pit of your stomach.

“I’m not sure”, Octavia exclaims bewilderingly, “They left the party just fine. Finn drove and it was fine.”

“You let him drive drunk? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Octavia?”

Octavia’s presence in that moment was convenient. And you? You were angry. Your anger had accumulated into a ball of unpleasant memories where the fear of losing your friends had anchored it to your ribs and was now bruising your chest.

It stung. And you were angry.

“Clarke…”, Lexa tries to soothe, “Calm down. We are all in this together.”

 

-

 

Hours pass.

Doctors come and go.

Lexa sits next to you, her hand interlocked with yours. You lean in; your chin resting on her shoulder, as you whisper, “How are you holding up?” She dips her head into a solemn nod, before resting her head on yours.

“Honestly? Slightly better now that Lincoln and Anya are here.”

Your vocal chords release something similar to a hum, and as the vibration of the sound begins to wear off, you gather the courage to utter, “The only reason I’m doing alright is because you are here.”

As your head remains positioned on Lexa’s shoulder, you watch her clench her jaw and swallow hard. And as she squeezes your hand harder, she turns her head towards you; her gaze gentle in its intensity, and you wish that you could cover each of her eyelashes with your lips.

She opens her mouth, “It brings me greater relief knowing that we are here together.”

You are slightly disappointed at the formality in her tone, and even more so that you have grown accustomed to it. You offer her a smile that you try to sell as anything but sad. “Clarke”, she offers through closed eyes, “I am happy you are here with me. _Here_. And not in _there_. I am not sure what I would have done.”

You can barely contain the urge to clasp your arms around her, to entangle your hands in her hair, to kiss her cheeks, to tell her that you love her. _Why am I holding back?_ And as you begin to lean in, losing all inhibition, all of your poorly contained constraint, a door opens.

A tall woman, in scrubs, walks out. You vaguely remember her introducing herself as doctor something-or-rather. It could have been Samson, and it could have been Saunders. You are not sure and you cannot remember. But her presence has thwarted the room and you are quite sure that your heart has lodged itself between your temples.

Octavia belts out, “Well? Fucking _speak_ already!”

Doctor Something-or-rather clears her throat. “Alright. There’s no good way of starting these things, so I’m just going to start by saying that Costia is fine. She sustained the least amount of injuries and her condition is stable.”

Some sort of relief floods the room. It is sickly and distorted, but at least now your chest was not collapsing in on itself.

“Now, the other girl. Raven? There were complications.”

The air in the room dissipates. Even if you were able to breathe, you are not sure that you remember how.

“Complications?”, someone blurts out.

“Yes”, doctor Something-or-rather answers calmly. “She had a spinal injury, which we managed to repair with some difficulty. She is fine, but her leg won’t work quite the same.”

“But she’s _alive_?”, Octavia almost screams.

“Yes. She is alive. And she will be fine.”

“Then fucking start with that next time!”, you exclaim. “Jesus fucking Christ! I thought she was dead!”

Your eyes begin to burn and, as though she can read your mind, Lexa softly squeezes your hand.

“Now”, doctor Something-or-rather continues, “The boy. Finn.”

You dislike the pause that ensues. You begin to brace yourself for impact, even though you know that it is hopeless; almost like a person falling towards the ground feels when their parachute does not open.

“His injuries were grave.”

You feel despair.

“We tried everything.”

Misery.

“We refused to give up on him.”

Despondency.

“But, ultimately, there was nothing more that we could do.”

Sorrow.

“There was a significant loss of blood that we couldn’t make up for.”

Surreal.

“I’m really sorry. I’m _so_ sorry for your loss.”

Grief.

And in the middle of it a guttural cry as Finn’s mother falls to the floor and sobs into her hands.

 

-

 

You are standing in front of the hospital entrance.

You are facing the sky, as morning begins to stir amongst the hues of blue. You inhale. You exhale. You try to feel the air seep down your throat, and not much else.

You did not know what or how to feel. Because, what the fuck had just happened inside of that building?

You were floating ambivalently between the emotion of being grateful and being wretched. _What just happened?_ The thought repeating itself; raging through your body, kicking and screaming inside of you.

“Found you.” Her voice is soft. It always has a mellow undertone when she speaks to you, and each intonation makes you feel as though the universe has exploded inside of your chest.

“Found me”, you reply back.

“I was worried”, she surges, “How are you holding up?”

You wrap your arms around yourself, “Disbelief.” You shake your head and push out, “I’m not sure, Lexa.”

She steps in front you and sighs. The sigh she releases withholds all of her words; the _it will be alright’s,_ the _I wish I could fix this’s_ , the _you are strong’s_. She slumps her shoulders, uncertain of what else to do or say.

Then, you remember. “You were going to tell me something?”

“I am not sure this is the time nor the place, Clarke.”

You feel as though someone has punched you in the stomach. If this was an indication of what was to come, you wanted it to be over. “Just spill it, Lexa. This night can’t get much worse.”

“Clarke”, she cautiously utters back, “Trust me. This is a conversation for another time.”

You raise your head, pull your shoulders back and tighten your jaw.

“Fine”, you reply, “Then I’ll speak. This is long overdue.”

You inhale sharply.

“I regret the way I handled things. I regret letting the months slip between us, I regret being hesitant, I regret being unsure. But none of this I can change, Lexa.”

Your voice sounding desperate.

“Like, fuck. I always thought there will be time; time to do things, time to say things, time to just make everything better.”

You pause.

“I don’t even fucking know what I’m blabbering about.”

You stride forward and grab Lexa’s hands.

“Just, listen. Shit happens. All the fucking time. You just saw that tonight. And I can’t afford to not be brave and to not try. Lexa, _please_ , come back to me. _Please_.”

You dislike the way Lexa hesitates her next words, “For a long time I thought that you did not want me anymore. And now, you confess all of these wonderful things that I have been waiting so long for. But, it comes a little too late, Clarke.”

“Lexa-“, you stutter out.

“I am sorry, Clarke. I thought I had lost you. So, I thought it was time for me to consider moving on.”

“Lexa, please-“, you try.

“And I am. In the process. Of moving on. With Raleigh.”

_Oh_.

You are stunned. You feel rigid; stiff. You feel as though your joints have welded shut and you were now unable to hear or see.

“That’s great”, you muster out and continue, unsure of who you were trying to convince, “It’s great. I mean, now we can be friends. And that’s great.”

“Clarke, if you give me a minute to say what I need to say-“

“No, no”, you continue urgently, “I understand. I get it. Raleigh is beautiful and I feel embarrassed. I really, really want to go inside now.”

You turn on your heel, passed the “ _Clarke, please”_ that slips by you and wraps gently around you. The ache grows and you fear that it will, one day, split you apart.

So, you stop.

Warm breath releases from your mouth, as you utter, “You were wrong. You were completely wrong, Lexa. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. I will never love anyone the way I love you.” You turn your head over your shoulder, not being brave enough to find her gaze, “And if this is what it means to love; then I don’t want it anymore. Not if you aren’t on the receiving end of it.”

And then, you leave.

 

-

 

Costia left the hospital, first. You spent the days with her; your time getting lost in fine wine and good conversations.

Then, Raven joined the circle. It was so much better with Raven around. Costia seemed to come alive in Raven’s presence. It was interesting, but you did not dwell more on it.

“You either live long enough to see it defeat you, or you live long enough to see it as a stepping stone”, Raven would often say, while clutching her leg brace. She always impressed you with her strength and her unwavering commitment to not give up. And at times, you thought that Costia contributed to that strength. But you never asked.

“We should have a sleepover at my place”, Costia states excitedly. “It’ll be just us, since Lexa will be with-“, and before her words can slip off of her tongue, she catches herself; and with wide and apologetic eyes, she glances in your direction.

You hated it. You hated that everyone could see how exposed you felt.

“It’s okay”, you mutter, “You guys don’t need to protect me all the time.”

“So, pizza? Netflix. Wine? Yes?”, Costia eagerly pushes on.

“Sounds like a wild night”, you chuckle, “So, count me in.”

 

-

 

You cannot even bring yourself to pay attention to the movie. Your pajama pants feel too tight around your waist; your stomach bloated and full of cheese pizza and snacks. You push your hands underneath the waistband, trying to relieve some of the pressure. You grunt loudly, “I ate so much. Too much. I’m in pain, Cos.”

By now, Raven was asleep on the couch and Costia was making sure that you were not. “Clarke, you aren’t even paying attention. I’m here shitting my pants on my own!”

You scoff out a chuckle, “I’m not even sure what’s going on. I’m so full, I can barely breathe; let alone be observant to this shitty excuse for a horror movie.”

Costia stirs in place, before asking seriously, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Cos, I’m all talked out”, you reply, while gulping your fifth glass of wine. “It’s not like Lexa and I don’t talk or see each other. We text sometimes.”

“Alright”, Costia releases unsurely, “Good. You should learn how to be friends.”

_How_ , you quietly wonder to yourself. But when Costia begins to respond, you realize that the quiet thought had actually left your lips and leaped into the air between you and your friend.

“Well, when it comes to Lexa and me, it wasn’t easy. We did love each other and still do. And that’s where the similarity of the situation ends. You see, she loved me, but not even close to the way she loves you. She will never love anyone, like she loves you. And, I saw that and knew that I couldn’t compete.”

She pauses, her eyes flicking towards the lit hallway, “Speaking of the devil!”

Lexa silently walks into the living room. With each step, your chest constricts. Your head is spinning and when she finally whispers a, “Good evening, girls”, the nauseating feeling is suddenly stilled.

“Hey”, Costia replies, “Your date ended early. Hope it’s okay we brought the party here?”

“It’s absolutely fine”, she utters through a smile, as she takes her seat in front of the couch, while sliding her legs under the coffee table in front. “What are we watching?”

“Horror movie”, you respond, “Because Costia seems to believe that we don’t have enough horrors on our plate, in the real world.”

In that moment, Raven begins to stir. You immediately rise to your feet, and cupping her cheek, motion for Costia to help you stretch out Raven’s legs. Finally, you grab a blanket; meticulously making sure that she is covered and warm.

Costia and you slide down on the floor, next to Lexa.

“Where are you sleeping, Clarke?”

“On the floor, I guess”, you respond, without meeting her gaze.

She turns her head towards the TV, “You should sleep in my bed. I will sleep on the floor.”

That familiar pain begins to tug at your ribs.

“No, it’s fine. Worst case scenario: I’ll walk home. It’s fine. Really, Lexa.”

“I cannot let you sleep on the floor, Clarke”, Lexa argues, “Either take my bed or have me drive you home.”

“Jesus, Lexa! Why do you have to be so stubborn, all the fucking time?” You are unsure where this sudden surge of irritation is coming from.

“I am _not_ the one that is constantly being stubborn, Clarke.”

You scoff out your words, “Really? Really, miss-I-pretend-that-I-care!? Get over it! I know, I am.”

“You are the one who initially decided the nature of our relationship.”

“Wow, Lexa. Fucking wow. See that right there? Stubbornness. Or dumb fucking pride. I can’t decide which would be worse. And the horrible part? You are stubborn in all the wrong things! When you should have been stubborn in calling me, you weren’t. And you _shouldn’t_ have been stubborn in not talking to me for months.”

“Clarke-“, Costia tries apprehensively.

“No, Cos. She needs to hear it!” You continue, “When you should have been stubborn about me, you weren’t! When you _shouldn’t_ have been stubborn about some girl you just met, you were! When you _shouldn’t_ have given up on us, you _did_! So, stop pretending like you suddenly give a fuck! Fuck you and your fucking stubbornness!”

You exhale. Your hands are shaking and you are not sure if you are about to cry or scream. Lexa, on the other hand, stands on her feet and walks over to her room.

“That’s right. Just walk away. It’s so natural for you!”, you bite hard into the air.

After a brief silence, Raven stirs and utters, “Well, I’m very much awake now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck. I know. I rewrote this chapter four times. And I wanted it to be much longer, but then I thought it's better to publish before I overthink it again. Initially, Raven and Costia died. And that was horrible. And served no purpose really, so I rewrote it. And then I had writer's block. And then school started. And well, all in all, writing this chapter was not easy.
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Next one will be longer to make up for all of this. I want to say when I'm going to publish it (because I have a date in mind), but I feel as though I've been really shitty in terms of keeping my word... so, I won't.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only the flickering of the TV offers a temporary relief as it illuminates and falls in the creases of her shadow, reminding you how she had once gifted you a place under an oak tree and how you, in return, had gifted her the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. It took forever. What happened? Mainly writer's block, in combination with school and work. Sorry it took forever. Hopefully you enjoy it and I will do my best that the next chapter doesn't take 23,5 years.

“Good”, your facial expression remaining stern and your voice steady, “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

Raven grimaces. Raising her eyebrows, she narrows her eyes as if she is reading your body language; and when she has done so successfully, she smacks her lips and mutters, “You _care_ , Clarke. Your shitty excuse for a poker face can’t trick me.”

And this bothers you. The fact that you appear to be translucent in the way that you carry your emotions, despite your voracious attempts in keeping them tightly coiled between your ribs. But you clutch your fist and you feel ready for war. “Now you’re starting to piss me off, Ray.”

And before you are able to fully comprehend what is happening, Lexa is standing in front of you; her hands holding her pillow and comforter. “I put a clean sheet on the bed. Clean blanket and pillows.”

When your facial features remain equally harsh as before, she releases a yielding sigh and drags her feet to the coffee table where she slopes down on the carpet. “You frustrate me.” She does not face you, but you are acutely aware that she is addressing you. She continues to speak in that soft whispering voice that used to leave you breathless, as it would trail its way from your neck to your lips, “For tonight, Clarke, can we leave this be? You _need_ the peace.”

Her words surprise you and almost make you forget about your anger, as you scramble for an answer. But then, it returns in waves and crashes against the walls of your chest, reminding you of the cosmic ache that was left there. “Is this supposed to make me like you better?”

“Let us speak in the morning, Clarke.”

“No”, you huff, still remaining combative, “I don’t care if _you_ want to talk in the morning. I don’t give a shit anymore about what _you_ want.”

Yet, truthfully, Lexa was right. You were utterly exhausted and raw. But the fury that was now finding its way from the ache in your chest to the sharpness of your tongue felt no weariness. And in a sudden and unsettlingly calm way, you turn your head towards Costia and Raven, uttering, “Go.”

Costia, wasting no time, pulls at Raven’s arm and quietly leave.

The sudden silence fills the room and claws itself into the walls; thick and crowded with memories, thoughts, unsaid words, and regret. Only the flickering of the TV offers a temporary relief as it illuminates and falls in the creases of her shadow, reminding you how she had once gifted you a place under an oak tree and how you, in return, had gifted her the stars.

Right now, in this very moment, she appeared small. And despite the tumbling fury in the pit of your stomach, you were fighting the urge to comfort her. And when she sucks in a sharp breath, leaving it to linger and prickle her lungs, you know that she too feels the way you do.

With that, you pull your legs up, tightly wrapping your arms around them and allowing your chin to rest on your knees. You carefully weigh your words, remaining unsure if you should speak at all.

“Thank you. It was thoughtful of you to offer me a place to rest.”

The words are loud as they collide with the silence, almost like nails on a chalk board. But to Lexa they appeared to have alleviated some of the prickling in her lungs, as she turns her entire body towards you and waits. And this you loved about her: how she always gave you time.

You tilt your head just enough to catch her eyes, “But I probably won’t sleep.”

Her gaze remains unwavering, but the hardness that is usually present in it has been replaced with a gentleness that you were not aware of how much, until this moment, you had missed.

“You will not or you cannot, Clarke?”

You are slightly taken aback by the way that she always seems to know when you are broken, yet it is her concern that you feel is slowly dissolving you into molecules.

“I can’t”, you respond. “Well, I mean, I do fall asleep, eventually.”

She wets her lips and slowly nods her head; your words confirming something that she knew. And when her eyes find their way back to you, they glimmer between sadness and understanding. She manages to whisper “Why”, but you are quite sure that somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she was already aware of your answer.

“Some nights I dream of Finn. Some nights I dream of mom”, you answer despite the fact that the word _dream_ is not quite an accurate description of what happens when you shut your eyelids. If you were to only _dream_ of them, sleep would not come quick enough. No, what you had were nightmares of losing them. And if you were being completely honest, more nights than you would like to admit, Lexa crowded your dreams as well. Yet, this was the distinction. As much as she had become a reminder of love lost, she was also- in bigger measure- a reminder of something great. So, at night when you would drift off into slumber and Lexa would come to you, she was never a nightmare, but always a dream.

“So”, you stop yourself, “I don’t sleep unless I absolutely can’t stay awake.”

“Have you talked to someone about this?”, she asks.

“No.” You pause before deciding to continue, “Sometimes I feel like I can scream for days.”

The stillness that settles in the room is serene and familiar. As if your paths, no matter how thwarted they have been, were always meant to cross again.

“I know, Clarke”, she whispers. She faces you again and almost wavers under the pressure of her next few words, “I have been wanting to help you with that.” She pushes herself to her feet and, while looking away, asks, “Will you let me try tonight?”

And you already know the answer.

You will always follow _her_.

 

-

 

You always loved the night.

There was something rather peaceful about its capability to bring relief and alleviate any regrets of the day.

“So, are you going to tell me where we are?”, you ask.

“No”, she utters through a smile and continues, “This way, Clarke.”

And despite your efforts to hold it back, your lips end up surging into a smile. Partly to be blamed on the thought if other people were allowed to witness this soft side of Lexa. And partly on the answer to that very question, which was more than likely _no_. In a sense, you were lucky.

“Well, at least I know that we are in a forest”, you state as a matter of fact, pausing just enough for Lexa to offer an explanation. But all she responds with, before going silent, is: “Yes, we are”.

A chuckle trickles out from your lungs and as you walk side by side, you feel that familiar serenity that only her presence seems to bring. You slightly tilt your head back and with lidded eyes, revel in the cold air. You listen to the crunching of tree branches below your feet and to the warmth in your chest when your hand briefly brushes hers. You are sure that someone, somewhere and at some point in time has described a night just like this.

“We are here”, she whispers while you open your eyes and allow them to land on the meadow in front. She walks into the middle of it and, as usual, you follow.

“I’m confused, Lexa”, you say. “Why exactly are we here?”

“We are making you feel better, Clarke.”

“I am not sure I follow.”

“Here, whatever you are feeling, you can scream at the trees, the grass, the moon”, she pauses and adds, “And me.”

_And me_. Those two words create something akin to a riot inside of your chest, as your heart rapidly begins to beat against your ribcage. You take a prolonged breath and respond, “That’s very weird of you Lexa. Very weird and very thoughtful.”

The breath that you had previously taken, you now release and feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach drop. You stretch your arms towards the sky and howl into the night. And the more you howl, the more sorrow comes pouring out. But it is not fluid and it does not come out easy, because it burns your lungs and stings your eyes. You push on until your cheeks feel sticky and your mouth is dry.

You sit down in the grass, tapping the space next to you, wanting Lexa to occupy it.

“Much better”, you utter hoarsely.

“ _Anytime_ ”, she responds quietly.

And with that one word, a lifetime of memories flashes in an instant. But before they can begin to flourish in the alcove of your chest, you lay down and pull Lexa with you. Even though it felt like nothing was lost, you were painfully aware that once the night had slithered away, you would revert to being two people that were too raw to ever speak of it again.

“I am not sure what I should say, Clarke. Even though there is plenty that I could.”

“Let’s for now not say anything. Let us just be.”

And there you were. Two bodies under the watchful eyes of the stars. A little less broken than before.

 

-

 

When you return to the apartment, both of you walk straight into the living room. You sit next to each other on the couch and as you stretch for the glass of wine left on the coffee table, you utter, “So. Tell me about Raleigh.”

“Are you completely sure that this is the topic that want to discuss at this very moment?”, Lexa responds surprised.

“Yes”, you say. And the reassurance with which you had managed to reply with, astonished even you. You knew that if you were to remain in each other’s lives, you both had to make an effort. No matter how unpleasant it was.

“She is kind.”

“That’s it? ‘She is kind’?”

“She is a good cook.”

“She is kind and she is a good cook? That’s very broad and general, Lexa”, you say with a slight chuckle. “Alright, you obviously need help. How about, what’s your favorite thing that she’s ever cooked for you?”

“She made very delicious pierogis, which is something that I have never tried before.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure to ask her to make me those then”. And you try to push a smile out that does not seem forced, because as much as you wanted to see Lexa happy, that coil in the pit of your stomach was currently tightening. And Lexa’s eyes, as she looks at you, flash with a tenderness.

“Continue”, you say.

“Alright. She makes me laugh.”

“What?!”, you feign shock and continue, “Here I was thinking that nobody else has actually seen that miracle happen, apart from me.”

“There is a difference in how you make me laugh and how others do”, she answers slowly.

“Which is what?”

“I will always prefer your way, Clarke.”

Your breath constricts.

“Me, too”, you respond and get up. And as you begin to walk over to her room, you whisper over your shoulder, “Good night, Lex. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

-

 

“You two give me whiplash”, Raven says as she sips her coffee, “I mean, right Cos? I can’t be the only one needing a neck brace here.”

Costia releases a laughter that rattles the air before she responds, “I do have to say that your divorce has been very traumatizing for us kids.”

“It’s complicated, guys”, you utter in hopes of it ending this particular topic.

“No shit! We can’t even keep up anymore. Together. Not together. Together. Not together? I mean, it shouldn’t be this hard to make up your fucking mind”, Raven responds as she pushes a chocolate chip cookie in her mouth.

“Good, you’ll be quiet for a little bit”, you say lightheartedly, “Even though I’m not quite sure how you can survive for a second without hearing the sound of your own voice.” Raven offers you a deadpan stare, as you continue, “I just can’t hold on to my anger anymore. I don’t _want_ to.” You exhale and add, “I just want us to be okay. Especially because there is history. And not all of it was ugly.”

Costia reaches out and allows her hand to rest on yours, before grabbing it and gently squeezing it. “Here they come”, she suddenly says before glancing in Raven’s direction and adding, “Play nice.” Raven rolls her eyes, but quickly replaces it with a genuine smile upon seeing Lexa enter the coffee shop, “Lex!” She determinedly walks over to Lexa and encircles her arms around her, “I don’t care what you want, but we’re hugging.”

“This is Raleigh, as I hope you remember, Raven?”, Lexa replies.

Raleigh smiles in response and offers her hand, “It’s very nice to see you again, Raven.”

By now Lexa has made her way to you and Costia, offering the empty chair to Raleigh. When everybody sits down, the discomfort becomes apparent as a silence settles, crippling your search for any remotely interesting topic. All you could think of was, despite your greatest effort, how awkward this felt.

“So”, Raven pushes on and a sense of relief floods your face, “Tell us something about you. How did you guys meet?”

_That’s exactly what I wanted to hear right now._

Raleigh clears her throat and with uncertainty does not hold anyone’s gaze, but instead allows it to fall on the table. Clearly nervous, she tugs at her sleeves and fidgets with her hands, but when Lexa grabs it to soothe her, you feel something wrap tightly around your own heart. “Well”, she begins and allows her eyes to flicker in Costia’s direction, “It’s not a very romantic story.”

Before anyone can offer a response, the sound of your own voice surprises you, “It doesn’t have to be romantic to be great. Sometimes, those are the best ones”. The faint smile on your lips seems to bring some comfort to Raleigh, as she more confidently responds, “We’ve known each other from school. Marine biology class, actually. Talked a few times. Went out a few times. And here we are.”

“You take a class and you find a partner. If it only worked like that for the rest of us”, Raven jokes. “I have to spackle my entire body and even then I’m lucky if I get some. Although, Clarke never seems to have that problem. She doesn’t have to shower for three months and would still manage to get laid.”

“Hey, now! I resent that. I’d never not shower for three months”, you say as a laugh escapes through your lips, “But the rest is true.”

And Raleigh laughs. She laughs with her entire body and you almost find yourself thinking that this girl is adorable in her way of being.

“Clarke?”, Raven says and gives you another nudge, “Are you listening?”

“I asked”, Raleigh reiterates, “Are you currently seeing anyone?”

“Oh”, you release slowly, “No, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m not looking for anything serious.” You pause and narrow your eyes playfully, “Why?”

“I was thinking that we could all go out together and I could introduce you to a friend of mine”, Raleigh speaks and continues, “Doesn’t have to be anything serious. You could have some fun and see where it goes.”

“She says _yes_ ”, Raven interrupts excitedly, “She really needs it.”

But you do not hear them. Your gaze is fixed on someone else. And the deeper you sink in meadows of green, the harder the grip in your chest becomes. You suddenly feel bruised, because it is inconceivable how someone can miss a person so badly, when they are right in front of them.

“Clarke?”, Raleigh wonders.

You swallow hard and say, “Yes. My answer is yes”.

“Then it’s settled.”

“By the way, what is your friend’s name”, Costia interjects.

“Oh, sorry. Maybe I should have started with that”, Raleigh adds, “Her name is Alie.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is still. Suddenly it moves in a hushed whisper. And you are not even sure if your feet are planted on Earth or on some star, light-years away. Because, this is what she does. She makes you feel ethereal. And your heart aches. A longing so painful that could be fixed with one simple step towards her; a distance breached in a matter of seconds and a pain cured with a kiss. And you wonder if she can feel your hurt, because Lexa’s eyes fill with sadness and at the same time a clarity- she can see you.

“Okay”, you say as you briefly glance at the black dress firmly held in your hands, “Why the fuck do I feel nervous?”

“Clarke, this is great”, Octavia responds reassuring.

“No, O. This is _stupid_ ”, you reply and throw the dress on the bed.

“Griff, the entire point was for you to have some fun and stop obsessing over she-who-shall-not-be-named.” Sprawled on your bed, she props herself on her elbows and adds, “Look at it this way: you don’t know Alie. A couple of days ago she was no one to you.”

“What’s you point?”, you scowl.

“My _point_ is this: how can someone, who was until very recently no one, impact your life in any shape or form? So, what- she turns out to be a psycho, _and_? That doesn’t affect you. She _can’t_ hurt you, Griff. You’re safe. And you know that you can easily move the fuck on.”

“Wow. You’re an idiot.”

And when your response is met with a smirk, you continue, “It’s just hard when I know that Lexa is going to be there.”

“It’s hard. But… the Clarke I know is strong.”

With your back turned towards her, you nod. Your fingertips briefly brush over the hangars, before they clutch around red fabric, “This one”. You hold the dress out for Octavia to see.

She smiles and utters, “She-who-shall-not-be-named is in _big_ trouble tonight.”

 

-

 

As you step out of the car, you grab your sides and sigh into the air. In your hands, you feel heavy. And you are not entirely sure when your legs turned to lead. And so you stand there, hushing at the rumbling inside you.

You could hear the quiet lilt of words finding their way to the cusp of your tongue.

_I forbid you from loving her._

And you lie to yourself when you whisper, _I won’t._

You lock the car and walk up to the door of the restaurant. Before you push the door open, you try to grasp how entirely bizarre the entire idea of tonight is. What the fuck were you even doing here? What were you _actually_ doing here?

As you walk into the restaurant, your thoughts are interrupted by a man asking for your coat. You unwrap the waistband and allow him to take it, as your hands slide down your hips and pull down your dress.

“The name, miss?”

“Clarke”, you respond. “Clarke Griffin.”

The man narrows his eyes, wets his lips and tries again, “It’s a pleasure, Clarke Griffin. Though, I was wondering under what name the reservation is?”

“Oh! I thought… nevermind”, you respond through flushed cheeks, “I believe it’s under Woods?”

“Let’s see…”, the man trails off. “Right this way”, he quickly adds and gestures for you to follow him.

You arrive at a table set for four, located in the far right corner of the room. The man pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit down. “You are the first party to arrive. Would the lady like to order something while she waits?”

“A martini will be fine”, you reply with a courteous smile, because somehow you think that ordering a shot of Jäger would be inappropriate for a place like this. And when the man leaves, you tap your fingers in suspense against the table, while the rumbling inside of you begins to swivel.

You are startled by someone clearing their throat. Your gaze flicks upwards only to find the man from earlier, “Your martini. Enjoy.” Brazen, you grab the glass and manage to empty its contents through one single gulp. The tinge that slithers down your throat is enough to pacify the swiveling in your stomach.

“Good evening, Clarke.”

And at the cadence of her voice, your insides begin to spin. A frenzied, chaotic and desperate blend of sensations. Are you even breathing?

Your gaze follows the pace of her voice only to be overwhelmed by her eyes and cut by her jaw. And when it falls to her lips, you remember how they were the place where you wanted to be buried and forgotten.

“Hi, guys”, escapes your mouth as you swiftly stand up. Raleigh grabs you tenderly by the shoulders and pulls you into a hug, “Good to see you again”. She pulls away, yet still keeps her hands steady on your shoulders, “And this is Alie.”

And Alie is beautiful. Tall and regal with dark hair trickling passed her shoulders. You stretch out your hand and wait for her to grab it, “A pleasure to meet you, Alie.”

She narrows her eyes and allows the corner of her mouth to quirk upwards, before gently grabbing hold of your fingers and replying, “The pleasure is, I believe, all mine _._ ”

_Goodness._

“Shall we?”, Lexa utters, her face stern.

As you take your seat, Raleigh speaks, “Alie is a really good friend of mine. We have known each other for years.”

“And what is it that you do?”, you ask.

“It’ll bore you”, Alie answers jokingly.

“I’m sure it won’t. So, go on. What’s this big, mysterious job?”

“Alright.” Alie chuckles and it surprises you how much that sound appeals to you. “I’m a software developer. Coding. That type of thing.”

“Oh. Yeah, that _is_ boring”, you add with a smirk. And when Alie tilts her head back and allows a laugh to bubble up from her throat, you cannot help but do the same.

She was contagious.

“I told you! And what does the mysterious Clarke do?”

“Go to university only to skip class. And…” after a moment you add, “paint.”

“Can I see your paintings anywhere?”, Alie offers.

“I paint in my apartment. A hobby that is more than a hobby. If that makes sense”, you exhale and push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

Alie pushes her chin forward, “It makes perfect sense. And it seems that I’ll be impatiently waiting for an invitation to come and see some of your work.”

“I don’t really show anyone my work. Unless you happen to be Raven or Octavia. Or Lexa.”

Alie furrows her brow, but does not say anything. Instead, Raleigh interjects and begins talking about school. But Lexa. Well, Lexa was wide eyed and pure in the way that she was looking at you. She then clears her throat, “If you guys will excuse me for a brief moment”. She pulls her chair out, stands up and heads for the restroom. Raleigh simply nods while continuing to listen to Alie. You, on the other hand, get impatient.

_No, I should stay here._

Yet, what leaves your mouth is, “I’ll be right back.”

Your pace is slow. You rub your eyes and allow a yawn to escape your mouth. As much as you wanted the night to be a success, all you could think about was going home and burying yourself in canvases, paint and color. You needed some color.

You open the door to the restroom and upon realizing that it is empty, walk straight towards the sink, grabbing it by its sides. There is a rigidity to you that weighs down your bones and applies pressure to your muscles. And you feel it the most when you lower your head and permit it to come out as a strained breathe; an exhale that can only relieve a sliver of the coil in your stomach.

You startle when the booth behind you opens.

“Clarke?”

You do not look up, but instead offer her a grunt as form of relaying the fact that you are aware of her presence.

She walks over to the sink next to yours and turns on the faucet, letting the noise of running water replace your silence. “Is everything alright?”

“Honestly, I just needed a small break.”

She nods as she slowly begins to wash her hands. When she is done, she grabs a paper towel and begins drying them, while chewing on words. She does that Lexa thing where she tenses her jaw, as if she is unsure of the appropriateness of the question or whether the answer will be to her liking. “But, you _are_ enjoying your evening?”

Your reply is quick, “Yes.”

You walk towards the door, stepping in front of Lexa.

“Good”, she says.

“Is it?”

Time is still. Suddenly it moves in a hushed whisper. And you are not even sure if your feet are planted on Earth or on some star, light-years away. Because, this is what she does. She makes you feel ethereal. And your heart aches. A longing so painful that could be fixed with one simple step towards her; a distance breached in a matter of seconds and a pain cured with a kiss. And you wonder if she can feel your hurt, because Lexa’s eyes fill with sadness and at the same time a clarity- she can _see_ you.

As if she remembers who or where she is, Lexa tilts her head back, closes her eyes and purses her lips. And your eyes begin to sting, because you know that the moment is over. You know that Lexa is good- _too good_ _sometimes-_ to follow her heart without consideration for how it will affect others. Raleigh, for one.

Lexa will rather break her own heart, over and over again.

Yet, that is the thing. That is why your eyes sting and pool with tears- your heart breaks too.

She opens the door to the restroom, uttering a quiet, “After you.”

As you exit, closely followed by Lexa, you cannot help but wonder if you would ever find your way back to each other again.

 

-

 

You enter your apartment. Worn and bruised, you fall into bed. You release a sigh when the other person stirs next to you. “Raven”, you say, “Why are you in my bed?”

“Shhh”, she whispers and grabs your hand, “It’ll get better.”

Confused, you offer, “What will?”

“The triple L’s”, she says as if its meaning is self-evident.

“Ray…”, you reply with lack of patience.

“Griff, the triple L’s: love, life, Lexa.”

“Ugh”, you mutter, “If I wasn’t so fucking tired I’d ask you to leave my apartment immediately. This is a cheesy-free zone.”

“Sure, you would.” And you can almost hear her roll her eyes.

“Out of curiosity though”, you begin, “Which one of them will get better?”

But Raven surprises you. Instead of her usual palette of sarcasm, she sighs and clutches your arm, “Hopefully, _all_ of them.”

 

-

 

Octavia pushes the coffee cup into the palm of your hand. “Nectar of the gods. Looks like you need it.” She pauses briefly, but only so that she can guzzle down the caffeine from her own cup. She swallows with strain, “Yeah, don’t do what I did and just fucking burn your insides. Drink slowly.” She pulls a chair out and sits next to you, “Anyway. Did you even sleep last night?”

You shake your head and hunch your shoulders, “O, do we have to rehash this? Besides, I know Ray must’ve told you.”

“Don’t you know that the best way of getting over something is to constantly replay it in your head, over and over, until you die”, she replies with a smirk. “Alright, fine. No Lexa talk. And with that said, where is Costia? She’s late.”

“She’s with Raven.”

“Is that supposed to tell me something?”

And then you remember that Octavia has not had the privilege of witnessing whatever was budding between Raven and Costia.

“You _know_ ”, you say with a grin and continue by emphasizing each word, “They’ve. Been. Spending. _A. Lot._ Of. Time. Together. Octavia. A lot!”

“So, two people can’t spend some time together without immediately being labeled a couple?”

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen them in action. They’re kind of adorable.”

The door to the coffee shop opens and in walks Costia, as Raven holds the door open. She lets go of the door and hurries to Costia’s side, while Costia offers her left arm- gesturing to Raven to wrap her hand around it.

“You _see_ ”, is all that can leave your mouth before the two girls have joined you at the table.

“And”, Costia says in a high-pitched tone that is meant to be taken as enthusiasm, “How did last night go? Was Alie a hit?”

You grunt, “I know Raven told you.” You take a sip of your coffee before you continue, “Don’t get me wrong. Alie seems great. But, I don’t think I’m being fair to her.”

“Lexa?”, Costia asks with understanding in her voice.

“Yes. And not only that guys, but we had a moment. Or, I _think_ we did.” You sigh.

“Listen”, Raven utters, “You need to get laid. And Alie’s a great candidate for that. Just text her and invite her to come with us to ‘The Tavern’ tonight. Easy peasy lemon squeazy, Clarkey gets laid.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying”, you reply through lidded eyes and a small shake of your head.

 

-

 

Without much warning, you grab the beer bottle from the bartender and put it to your lips, giving yourself a moment of reflection before deciding to pour down its contents. Slightly overwhelmed by the carbonation, your words get caught in the back of your throat and end up sounding labored for that very reason, “How did she get here again?”

“Dude, the fuck if I know”, Octavia responds, “I think Lincoln invited them.”

“Of course he did”, you reply and gaze into the small cluster of people gathered a few feet away from you. And you find it astonishing how your gaze seems to always find her. As though she is your perpetual comfort; always leaving you feeling soothed and worthy.

Octavia lets out an exasperated sigh, “You got it bad.” She nudges your shoulder, “Listen. I get it. But I want you to know that I fully intend on getting you drunk. And if you don’t have fun, I will _make_ you. Take that as you will.”

She grabs you by the hand and drags you towards the far end of the room. As you rejoin the rest of the group, Raleigh offers her hand to Lexa and gently pulls her to the dance floor. Their bodies near and bridging distances begins to unravel the mirth in you, until there is nothing left but the swiveling coil in your stomach and a continuous, irregular tremble behind your ribs.

You grab Alie by the hand and pull her near. You are resentful and drunk. And you are also filled with a longing that has left you weary. But here she was. Willing to bring you the relief that you have wanted for so long- to make a connection. And she wraps her arms around you, until there is nothing left but the exchange of warm breath. Until it happens; warm lips meet warm lips. And you devour her. You eat until you are hungry no more, as Alie dies somewhere on the cusp of your lips.

When you pull away, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, all that you can think about is how she is not Lexa.

 

-

 

As the night progresses, you decide to take a walk to Lincoln’s house. Your hand is tightly intertwined with Alie’s and you are unsure if it is the alcohol, but you feel warm. You tilt your head on her shoulder and she wraps her arm around your waist.

In front of you, Octavia and Lincoln are laughing. And just when you think that Octavia is incapable of laughing any more, Lincoln picks her up in one fluid motion and spins her around. Her head tilts towards the sky and her hands reach for the stars and you think that you might never have seen her this happy.  

Raleigh, who is walking next to you, suddenly says “What’s up with those two?” She motions towards Raven and Costia, who were a few steps behind you.

“So, you’ve noticed”, you reply while a smile curls in the corners of your lips, “I haven’t asked yet, but whatever it is…”

“They fit.” Lexa’s voice steady and true.

“Sure, but they’re so different though”, Alie replies.

“More often than not”, Lexa continues, “different is complementary.”

“Two sides of the same coin”, you add.

Lexa nods and you watch her smile get veiled in the locks of her hair, as her gaze sweeps the ground before it finds you again.

When you reach Lincoln’s house, he ushers you into the back garden. He turns on the fairy lights while you take your seat in the grass, and it feels as though you have transcended to a fabled forest.

“Who’s got the singing chops”, Costia asks eagerly, “Let’s sing something. Does anyone play anything?”

Lincoln smiles before he responds, “Give me a second.”

He enters the house and is gone for a few moments, before he returns with a guitar, ukulele and a tambourine.

“So, I’ll play the guitar”, he says, “Any takers for the ukulele?”

“That’s Clarke’s”, Raven exclaims and practically pushes the instrument in your hand.

“And we are _all_ singing, including _you_ ”, Raleigh states with a nudge to Lexa’s side.

“Nantes by Beirut”, Lincoln adds, “Let’s go.”

And you strum while everyone begins to sing. The singing, heavily infused by alcohol, manages to bait a laugh from you that reverberates somewhere from the pit of your stomach. Its vibration feels comforting, so you tilt your head back and allow more of it to spill out. But in the midst of the melodic chaos, you hear a lulling sound. Something you have heard before. Following the lilt of her voice, your eyes search for her and you take a deep breath before you dive into the sound of her voice.

When the song finishes, there is a temporary silence.

“Ho-ly fuck! Lex! You can sing. And I mean, you can _fucking_ sing!” Raven states.

“That was absolutely beautiful, Woods”, you add.

She looks up and through reddened cheeks offers you a smile.

“That’s my girl”, Raleigh adds and places a well-meaning kiss on Lexa’s forehead.

Your chest compresses, so you clear your throat and stand up, “I’m getting drinks. Anyone want anything special?”

“Just yes to drinks in general!”

“I’ll help you”, Alie offers while she follows you inside the house.

You enter the kitchen and grab the vodka bottle sitting on the counter. Alie steps behind you and wraps both arms around your waist, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m too sober then”, you answer through a forced laughter.

“Clarke”, she urges reprehensively.

“What?!”

 She releases you from her grip and takes a step back.

You sigh, “I’m sorry.” You put a hand on her arm, “It’s nothing, Alie.”

After a moment of reflection, Alie adds, “You should do something about that.”

“About what?”

“Your poker face. It falls every time you look at Lexa. You’re not as discrete as you think.” She smiles. “Listen, whatever is going on there… I’m not getting involved. But, I’ve been in this group for a hot second and it’s quite obvious you two have _something_. So, maybe, you should work on that.”

“Maybe.”

She wraps her arms around you again, “From what I can see, _maybe_ seems quite hopeful. Because as crap as you are at being discrete, Lexa is even worse. She definitely needs to work on her poker face.” Alie places a kiss on the roof of your hand, “You’re damaged goods, Griffin. I think we’re better off as friends.”

A chuckle escapes your mouth, “Friends.”

“Now”, she adds, “the ‘too sober’ part is something I can fix.” She grabs a few glasses and takes the vodka bottle from you and places it under her arm. “Ladies first.”

And just when you are about to pass her, she gently grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back, “I said ladies first.”

You roll your eyes and offer her a grin.

At the sight of alcohol, Raven gets excited.

“Haven’t you had enough”, Octavia grimaces.

“I’m still awake, aren’t I?”

You take your seat with Alie next to you.

“Well” Lincoln says and raises his glass, “I think it’s appropriate to make a toast to love.”

“To love”, a chorus echoes and bounces in the space of the small circle of friends.

 

-

 

**4.17AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

You asleep?

 

**4.18AM**

**Lexa Woods**

No. Having trouble sleeping, Clarke?

 

**4.20AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

Slightly.

**4.23AM**

**Lexa Woods**

Me too.

**4.28AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

You should drink some water. It’ll help against the hangover tomorrow.

 

**4.29AM**

**Lexa Woods**

Alright.

 

**4.31AM**

**Clarke griffin**

You don’t have to listen to me. I'm not sure you should.

**4.33AM**

**Lexa Woods**

I haven’t been disappointed so far.

**4.36AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

I’ll try to keep that up, then.

**4.37AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

Good morning, Lexa. I hope you sleep well.

 

**4.39AM**

**Lexa Woods**

Good morning, Clarke. Sleep well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can taste the universe in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second semester is finally coming to an end. i have one more exam left and of course, that's when i want to write the most. i need to stop procrastinating. with that said, i hope you enjoy this chapter. it was written with love.

That night you dream.

Abby visits you.

You make yourself comfortable, as you used to, by laying down on the couch and allowing yourself to listen to her voice. She speaks. Boy, you had almost forgotten how much she used to talk. But you do not mind. You lay there, listening. The warm cup of coffee on your chest would occasionally shake, but only because Abby would make your entire body vibrate with laughter.

You had missed this.

You are almost in disbelief that she is here.

And she continues discussing school, work, your friends, her concerns and reassurances for your future- really, things that you used to consider nonsense. But now, you feel differently. Now you wish she would not stop.

But then she says, “It’s time for me to leave, Clarke.”

Grief takes hold of you; the feeling confusing you, because surely she would return. Yet, for whatever reason, you were unable to shake the resounding feeling that this was a finite and certain farewell. So you beg, “Please don’t leave. Please stay.”

You desperately clutch your arms around her, not allowing to be pulled apart, as you manage to whimper out a muffled plea, “Stay with me, mom.”

She holds you like when you were little. “Clarke, I _have_ to go.” She cups your cheek as though it is made of honey, “You make me proud.” She gently kisses your forehead, “I have seen who you are. And you will be okay. No matter what.”

Then, she is gone.

You wake with a gasp and instinctively cover your eyes. You try to bury the shuddering distress into the palm of your hand and just when you are about to break, you feel your fingers tightly wrapped around your phone. You must have slept like this, anchored to Lexa.

 

**7.42AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

You awake?

 

 

Before you can regret sending the message, the three dots appear.

 

**7.45AM**

**Lexa Woods**

Yes. Is everything alright?

**7.46AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

I miss my mom.

 

**7.48AM**

**Lexa Woods**

What do you need?

 

**7.52AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

Would you mind terribly coming over?

 

**7.54AM**

**Lexa Woods**

I wanted to offer, but I was unsure.

 

**7.54AM**

**Lexa Woods**

I’ll be there.

 

-

 

There is a soft knock on your door before it slides open and a bundle of brown locks falls through the crack.

“Clarke? I’m here now”, Lexa all but whispers as she enters your room and closes the door. “Raven let me in.”

She takes a step forward and then stops, awkwardly folding her hands in front of her as if uncertain at what to do next.

You move the covers and make enough room for her to lay down. You tap the spot next to you and utter, “I just need to talk.”

“Alright” is all that she murmurs.

Remaining hesitant, Lexa moves quietly to your side, before you feel the slight dip of the bed and a gentle hand reach for her end of the comforter.

This feels like home.

“You know” you stutter out, “I’m tired.” You inhale and exhale hard. “I’m tired of so many things, Lexa. But right now, I’m _so_ tired of not being able to see her.”

Lexa sighs a warm breath into the air.

“You know what the shittiest thing is”, you say as your lips involuntarily tremble, like they are barely holding back the despair that has settled in their flesh. “The few memories I’ve made with her are supposed to last me my entire life. That’s it. I don’t get to make new ones.”

Your voice hitches into a whimper when you try to push the next few words out, “The worst part is, I never get to see her again. _Never_. She’ll just be a memory. Almost like she didn’t exist at all.”

And at that, Lexa moves without hesitation, gently wrapping you in her arms. “I’m sorry”, she says and holds you harder.

Closely pressed towards her, you feel peace spring roots in your chest. She is your home.

And so you fall asleep. Tightly tethered to her.

You only wake once the breeze from the newly open window finds its way to your eyelashes and Lexa’s quiet “Thank you” fills the space as Raven leaves the room.

 “How long was I asleep” you ask as you stir out of Lexa’s grip and prop yourself on your side, facing her.

“A couple of hours” she replies and meets your gaze with a smile.

After a few moments you drop your arm and lay on your back, “Lexa, listen… Thank you-“

“Don’t” she interrupts.

“I was just-“

“I know, Clarke” she utters softly. “You were about to thank me. And I don’t want you to do that.” She offers you a brief moment of settling curiosity before she continues, “I will always want to be there for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I can be rather difficult.”

“Especially when it’s difficult”, she replies with the suggestion of a smile.

You release a hum; a soft noise in the back of your throat that has a certain rise to it, almost like a suppressed chuckle, yet quite telling in how easily she manages to tug at your core. A reflex you had to all the good things Lexa does.

“When do you have to leave”, your voice suddenly hoarse.

“When you tell me to”, she replies and pushes her jaw forward.

You remain silent. You reach for her hand and lift it into the air. “I have always loved your fingers”, you murmur. “Piano hands”, you add with a quiet laugh as you turn her palm towards you and marvel at it with a certain intensity. After a beat you continue, “Always a giver.” You lift your hand, “Always a taker.”

Her fingers wrap tenderly around your hand, “You, Clarke Griffin, are a giver.”

You tilt your head just enough to be able to face her. “I will take whatever little you give me” you whisper softly, “And I think you know that if it were up to me Lexa, you’d stay.”

 

-

 

That same evening- once Lexa had left- you slid out of your room and into the living room, taking your seat next to Raven. With a prolonged sigh, you emptied your body and dropped it into her lap.

“That cute thing you’re trying to do right now is not working” Raven mutters under her breath. “The remote is mine and I get to decide what we watch.”

“I’m just resting.”

“Haven’t you done enough of that today?”

And you know that Raven did not intend on it sounding as accusatory as it did, yet you could not help feeling slightly offended and unsettled by her comment.

“Ray…” you say while dragging out the vowels in her name slowly and apprehensively.

“I regretted it as soon as it left my big fucking mouth” she responds quickly and puts her hand on the crown of your head, gently tugging at your hair. “I was just kidding.”

“Maybe I was a little too sensitive.”

“No, it came off really shitty.” And as if she is putting an additional amount of thought into her next words, Raven stays quiet for a brief moment and then swiftly adds, “But I do hope that you know what you’re doing.”

You furrow your brows, “I’m not doing anything.”

“Listen, I’m just saying it because no one else will.”

You sit up and with crossed arms move away from Raven. “What _exactly_ are you saying?”

“I hope you know what you are doing, Clarke Griffin” she reiterates, putting emphasis on your name. “I hope you’re not suddenly pining for Lexa because the girl is finally moving on.”

Tense, you rise to your feet and clench your jaw with such force that you briefly consider grinding your teeth to their roots. “Out of all people, _you_ should know better.” You shift from one leg to the other. “You can’t put shit like that in the universe and expect me to be calm.”

“This isn’t coming from a bad place. I’m concerned.”

“The last thing I’d ever want is to do anything that could potentially hurt Lexa.” And then you add more tenderly than intended, “Again.”

This seems to awaken something in Raven as she quickly pulls herself to you and invades your space, “I just want to make sure that _both_ of my friends are going to walk away from this unscathed. And the more you tell me, the more I worry.”

“I’m not going to force her into anything”, you breathe.

“I know.” She grabs you by the shoulders and continues, “You know what we need right now? The roof.”

Without even having the time to properly react, Raven is already tugging at your shirt and pulling you up the concrete stairs of your building hallway.

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal”, you say quietly.

“Don’t be a cockblock.”

“That’s not what that means”, you snort.

“Yes it does”, she replies confidently. “Right now you’re being a buzzkill. A killjoy. A block of the cock, if you will.”

All you manage to do is to release a suppressed chuckle before Raven has opened the door and dragged you to the opposite end of the roof. You choose the far left corner to sit down and huddle up together.

Raven pulls out a small joint and offers you a wink, “Shall we?”

“It’s been so long.”

“Even better then”, she replies and lights it. She inhales and begins talking as she exhales, her words sounding slightly muffled, “I got a job offer.”

“Where”, you ask and take the joint from Raven’s hand. You inhale and almost immediately fall into a cough.

“Amateur”, Raven grins and continues, “It’s at some software developing company. I’m not quite sure. I’m meeting with the boss later this week and if she likes me, I’m in!”

“Should we be excited?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s a great opportunity, but maybe I should finish school first.” She inhales and exhales the smoke. “Costia seems to think that I should take the job and if it doesn’t pan out, I can always go back to school.”

“Costia isn’t wrong. Question is whether or not this job is worth it?”

Raven is all smiles when she says, “Oh, my dude. Totally worth it.”

“Isn’t that the answer then”, you respond through a cough. “Speaking of Costia. What’s the gist?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ray. Come on. I see it.”

“Fine”, she replies while rolling her eyes. “I like her. Really like her. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Have you kissed?”

“Clarke, we’re pretty much exclusive. We just haven’t said it out loud.”

“I get it”, you nod. “No labels. But you guys are adorable.”

“Hey”, she exclaims and feigns offence. “I’m not adorable. Charming? Yes. Gorgeous? Yes. Adorable? No.”

“You know,” you utter and lay down on the concrete, looking up at the sky. “I love the dichotomy of the sky and the ground.”

Raven lays down next to you, remaining quiet.

“Two opposing forces that in reality are connected”, you continue.

“Listen”, Raven replies, “My eyes are dry, my legs are jelly and I feel like I’m on a rocket to the moon. You have to just come out and say what you’re trying to say.”

You smile and bring up your hand to cover your eyes. “Remember that one time when I said that our apartment is a cheesy-free zone? And if one of us says anything remotely cheesy, that they have to move out?”

“Are you telling me that you’re about to move out?”

“You tell me”, you respond and in the same breath add, “What I’m saying is that I think that Lexa is my opposing force.”

Raven contemplates for a while.

“Okay”, she finally responds and bites her lip, “What you are saying, in a very politically correct way, is that Lexa is your other half?”

You tilt your head towards her, still keeping your hand in place over your eyes, “It’s corny and I’m completely embarrassed. But, yeah. That’s kind of what I’m saying.”

“You have _no_ idea how hard I’m trying not say anything. I’m exerting myself to the point where I think I might be giving myself a stroke.”

She grabs your hand and pulls it away from your face. Your gaze meets hers and in that moment you feel as though you were kids again; laying on your bedroom floor, whispering about crushes, trying not to wake up the parents.

Your laugh comes first. It comes in bursts. And soon, both of you are shaking with a laughter that only seems to be getting louder and more roaring.

“In all sincerity”, Raven continues while holding her stomach, trying to calm the peppering aftershocks of joy. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Wait.”

“You’re just going to wait?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s be realistic, Clarke. She might never come back to you. That’s reality.”

“Maybe. But I’ve got nothing but time.”

 

-

 

Raven’s knuckles land hard on the door. She knocks once and then even harder the second time around. “So, safe to say that Raleigh is rich.”

You allow your eyes to sweep the large mansion from top to bottom before shrugging and replying as a matter of factly, “I guess.”

“Guys,” Costia says as she clings herself onto your shoulders, letting her entire upper body rest on you, “For _richer_ or _poorer_ , we’re here for the food and booze. Let’s focus on that.” She finishes her sentence and – in an irritatingly obnoxious way- adds a smirk for good measure.

“Ha. Ha. So funny”, you manage to add before the door opens and in the same instant you feel your lips tug upwards, in a catastrophic display of fondness. And when the corners of her mouth curl in the same way that yours do, you can feel the rapid buzzing of her mere existence somewhere behind your ribs.

Costia and Raven, as though one entity, walk up to Lexa and tangle their arms around her small figure, completely engulfing her in one long embrace. When they start pulling apart, Costia gently grabs Lexa by the shoulders and firmly presses her fingers around them. “It’s good to see you”, she utters.

“And you too, Cos.”

“Now that the formalities are over with,” Raven begins, “I’d like to be pointed in the direction of the food.”

Lexa smiles broadly and points in the direction of what you assume would be the location of the backyard. “Try not to eat all of it,” she adds. “There are other guests that expect to be fed as well.”

And as the two girls leave, Lexa turns to you.

“Hi there,” she says and suddenly her presence washes over you like the tide; pushing and pulling, always rumbling even when still.

“Hi there”, you reply quietly.

“I’m happy you’re here”, she utters and takes a step to the side, allowing you to walk past her and into the house.

With compressed lungs and a constricted throat, you are barely able to reply. But you take a breath and say, “I wanted to see you.”

And the way she looks at you makes you completely and utterly dizzy. The same type of feeling you have when you dream of falling in your sleep, but then startle awake with a heaving breath and settling relief.

“This way.”

You fall into step with her, like you have done so many times before.

You almost forget who or where you are, because all you can focus on is the fluidity of Lexa’s stride, and the way her hair sways into the arch of her back. Really, there is not much room for anything else to think about.

“This is the garden,” she says as you walk into the backyard and are greeted with a throng of people.

“Big party.” And after a beat you add, “Beautiful garden.”

“Yes, big party,” she replies and folds her hands behind her back. “Feel free to explore.”

And then she is gone.

Not completely, obviously. As you would make your rounds in the garden, you would catch a glimpse of her- always busy conversing, entertaining people. Sometimes she was alone, sometimes she had Raleigh by her side. But even when she seemed preoccupied with hosting duties, she would often than not try to catch your gaze. Either way, your presence seemed to never go unnoticed.

You take it upon yourself to walk to the far end of garden. You are lured there by the sight of a small pond, surrounded by trees and a white picket fence.

You take your shoes off as you make your way towards it, feeling each string of grass press between your toes. The heat lingers heavy in the air, clinging stubbornly to the locks of your hair, coiling them tighter and disarranging each strand with each passing minute.

If summer had a smell, this was it.

When you reach the pond, you drop your shoes next to you and lean on the fence. You briefly consider walking all the way to the edge of the water, but before you can make a decision, you hear it:

“Clarke.”

You turn your head and follow her figure as she approaches you, only to settle in the spot next to you.

“You disappeared.”

“I took your advice and went exploring.”

She simply nods and fixes her gaze somewhere far off into the distance.

And the heavy summer air does not leave her hair alone either; pulling her locks down and her equally stubborn trying to hook them behind her ear. It reminds you of the very first time you saw her. But now you knew better. You know that she was the thread that held you together. She was a tourniquet and she _would_ heal you.

Correction, she _heals_.

“We should get back.”

“Do we have to,” you reply with a frown. “There’s too many people over there and not enough alcohol to make me endure one more conversation about stocks and portfolios and whatever other things that sound complicated and important.”

Her eyes go soft and pull at the corners of her mouth. “Would it be rude to steal a bottle of wine and spend the rest of the evening here?”

“Probably,” you chuckle. “But who am I to judge?”

“You’re probably right. Let’s go back, then.”

You grab your shoes with one hand and fling them over your right shoulder, and with the other grab Lexa’s arm. She startles at the feeling of your fingers wrapping around her, and you know that you are both burned by the sensation. But she does not pull away and you do not let go. You tug her closer and only let go when she is near enough for you to wrap your hand around her waist and rest your head in the crook of her neck.

“Clarke,” she whispers, but all the same reaches around you with both arms and holds you.

“This is how I want to spend the rest of my evening.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather want.”

“Then,” you tilt your head back just enough to be able to find her eyes, “What are we doing?”

“I’ve made a promise to Raleigh.”

You cup the side of her jaw, “Is a promise worth more than your own feelings?”

“I can’t hurt her.”

“Lexa, don’t you think that she deserves someone who loves her?”

“I _do_ love her, Clarke.”

“Is it enough?”

She hunches her shoulders, “Sometimes.”

At that you release her from your grasp. “You’ll be your own downfall, Lexa Woods.” You furrow your brow in concern, before instinctively grabbing her arm again, stopping her from walking away. The motion swings her around, giving you enough time to bridge the distance between the two of you and gently press your fingers at the back of her neck. You clutch at her hair and watch her eyes widen before they close, as your lips surge towards hers.

And you feel like there is a cosmic explosion inside of your lungs, as she softly traps your bottom lip between hers. She allows her hand to slide down the side of your neck, stopping briefly at your pulse point, before rushing down to your waist and curling at the small of your back in a desperate attempt to draw you closer and eradicate any space between you. You breathe into her mouth full of diamonds, as she tastes the flavor of champagne on your tongue.

When the frenzied hunger has stopped, you pepper kisses on her cheeks, forehead and nose, only to return to her lips. You remain still, keeping your lips unmoving and firmly pressed against hers. And then you remember how wrong you had been earlier- if summer had a smell, then _this_ was it.

You smile against her and murmur, “I can taste the sunshine in you.”

She pushes her forehead against yours, “I can taste the universe in you.”

“You one-upped me. Smooth.”

She releases a small chuckle. “What now?”

“It seems to me that you have a decision to make.” And when you feel the loud drum of her heart, you rest your hand against it, trying to pacify it. “I will wait, Lexa. I have time. So, don’t worry about that.” With your other hand you trace your way to the back of her neck, supporting the weight of her thoughts. “For once, all you have to worry about is what you want.”

“It’s not easy.”

“I know.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Clarke. I _know_ what I want.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You have a big heart, Lexa. And any piece of that magnificent heart of yours that you choose to break off and give to me, I’ll cherish above my own. I’ll always be here, not matter what.”

“I am petrified of losing you,” she whispers as she wipes the few strands of loose hair from your face.

“You know, if I could I would break off a piece of me and give to you,” you sigh. “But, my heart is not big enough for that. So, that’s why I have given it all to you.”

She lifts her head and pushes her jaw forward. “That was smooth, Griffin. You one-upped me,” she states through a widening smile.

“I know my strengths,” you laugh.

“There you are!” Your eyes flicker in the direction of the voice, only to see Raven fast approaching. “You’ve both been gone for like 30 minutes. What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” you both answer simultaneously.

Raven narrows her eyes, “Right… Well, I thought we were here for the booze Clarke. You’re too sober.”

“I will fix that immediately,” you say and allow yourself to be ushered away by your friend. And when you look back, you catch Lexa rooted into the dirt with her fingers hovering over her lips.

 

-

 

**10:25AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

I am pretty fucking hungover.

 

**10:31AM**

**Lexa Woods**

Not good. I’ll make sure to not text you loudly.

 

**10:33AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

How will you do that?

 

**10:35AM**

**Lexa Woods**

no capital letters

 

**10:45AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

Ahhh, so much better. Thank you.

 

**10:47AM**

**Lexa Woods**

listen, clarke.

 

**10:48AM**

**Clarke Griffin**

I’m listening.

 

**10:55AM**

**Lexa Woods**

i won’t be our downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to talk to me @lexatheheda.


End file.
